


Embers in the Snow

by erinmar13



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: A little, Canon Adjacent AU, Didn't Know They Were Dating, F/F, Family Bonding, Light Bondage, Marriage Proposal, Mustang Unit makes an appearance, Mutual Pining, Olivier being dramatic, Sparring, Sparring as foreplay, Wedding, Wedding Night, a local festival date, and lots and lots of, and no bad shit happens and no one dies, because have you seen them?, even a tiny touch of, in which the homunculi don't bother anyone, military rules? what military rules, really hot sex, slaps roof of fic, this baby can fit so much stuff in it, we got
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinmar13/pseuds/erinmar13
Summary: Riza accepts a transfer to Briggs and meets Olivier Armstrong. In the process of getting to know one another, they fall in love.Canon adjacent.
Relationships: Olivier Mira Armstrong & Miles, Olivier Mira Armstrong/Riza Hawkeye, Rebecca Catalina & Riza Hawkeye, Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang
Comments: 47
Kudos: 105





	1. The Northern Wall

**Author's Note:**

> This fic...oh man, this fic. It has been pure chaos, but in the best way. It was only supposed to be 3.5k worth of pure smut with barely any plot or premise. And then they just kept demanding more scenes, more story, more sex. I have obliged them.

Riza approached General Grumman’s open door and knocked. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes. Come in, have a seat.” Grumman gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “I received an intriguing message this morning.”

Riza sat, eying him with concerned interest. “Something regarding me?”

Grumman leaned back in his chair, peaking his fingers. “Yes, a request for your transfer.”

Riza furrowed her brow. “To where?”

“Major General Armstrong has requested your re-assignment to Fort Briggs.” He paused, but Hawkeye had no response. “I’m leaving that decision up to you. Briggs is a harsh place and General Armstrong is a harsher leader. You say the word and I can tell her no. She won’t like it, but she won’t have a choice. You don’t have to give me an answer now. It’s a big decision, take some time to consider.”

Riza thought for a moment. East Command was one of the best units in Amestris, but even they were nearly always bested by the soldiers at Briggs. She’d possibly be put to real use on the border if the tenuous truce with Drachma was ever breached. She would leave Mustang, but General Armstrong wanted her—and she did not collect unnecessary things. Her request meant that she saw benefit to Riza, specifically, being at the wall. Worst case, she could always ask Grumman to order her transfer back to East Command. She weighed the decision, trying to sight down each path as far as she could. She was faced with one difficult thought. What was ultimately more important to her; Mustang’s future or her own?

Her resolve solidified. Riza was never one to take the easy track. “When am I expected to leave, sir?” She asked calmly.

Grumman gave her a sad smile. He would miss her, and not just as a soldier. Briggs was not an easy place to live and General Armstrong was hard to impress. He had no doubts that Riza could succeed, but was worried about the toll it might take on her. “You’re to take the supply train heading north the day after tomorrow.”

She nodded, already prioritizing a packing list in her head.

Grumman let the silence sit before asking, “Would you like me to tell Mustang?”

Riza softened. “No, it was my decision, I’ll do it, sir. He should hear it from me.”

“All right. I’ll send the word along to Briggs. I give you leave to take the time to get your things in order. Good luck, Hawkeye.”

“Thank you, sir.” The next conversation would be less pleasant, but Roy would do better to hear it from her. She owed it to him for the blow to come from her.

Hawkeye made her way to Mustang’s office. She wished the walk was longer to give her more time to think how best to break it to him. But it was just down the hall and around the corner.

Riza stopped in his doorway. “Are you busy, Colonel?”

“I just have a ton of paperwork to get through, so no, not at all.” Roy smirked at her.

Riza closed the door to give them privacy. She was especially tense. “I just spoke with General Grumman, I’m to be transferred to Fort Briggs. The request came this morning from General Armstrong.” The smirk faded as he steepled his fingers. Riza could see his mental gears turning as he clenched his jaw. “Sir.”

Mustang seethed at his desk, grinding his teeth in stubborn silence.

“You’ll be fine without me.” Riza tried to assure him.

Roy jumped to his feet. “She’s only requesting your transfer to get to me by taking you away.”

Riza stiffened. “I’m the best sniper in Amestris and the General has a reputation for requesting the best soldiers to defend the border and protect the country.” Her voice was cool. “Of course she would want me on the wall, sir.”

Roy paced the room, angry energy forcing him to move. “She doesn’t need you there. No one breaks the Northern Wall.”

“And it will be that much more impenetrable with the Hawk’s Eye defending it.” Riza watched Roy stalk around his office, trying to figure a way to change her mind. “Sir, I’ve made my decision.”

Roy stopped and looked at Riza standing resolute. He knew that look in her eye. “You already told him yes, didn’t you?”

Riza stared straight ahead. “Yes, sir.”

Riza spent the next day and a half gathering her things in order. She decided it was worth keeping her apartment in East City just to have a place for herself when she got leave. Or in case she needed to come back. It also meant she didn’t have to deal with trying to store or sell her things. But there was one thing that needed to be handled.

“Come here, boy.” She called over Black Hayate. Riza knelt to scratch behind his ears. “Mommy’s going away for a while. You’re going to stay with Uncle Roy for a bit. And then he’s going to give you to a very good friend with a little girl.”

Hayate cocked his head.

“I’ll miss you, boy. But you’ll have a great time with Elicia.” She scratched his chin.

Hayate jumped up on her knees to lick her face, seemingly excited by the prospect.

Riza clipped his leash on. “All right, Hayate, let’s go.” He gave a small yap and wagged his tail.

Mustang met her on the train platform. “You’ll be miserable up there, you know?” If he couldn’t convince her to stay, he could at least prove he’d known better when she finally came to her senses.

“Maybe. But then you’ll have the satisfaction of being right.” Riza shouldered her pack. “Orders are orders.”

Roy scoffed. “You’ve never had a problem disobeying mine.”

“Only when it was best.” Riza half-smiled at him.

“And this is what’s best?” Roy asked, a sadness hiding behind his eyes.

Riza didn’t answer. Best for him, no. Best for her? Probably. If any high-ranking officer specifically requested her, it could only be to her benefit. For the Ice Queen of Briggs to desire her transfer… it would absolutely be in her interest to oblige.

“Right.” Roy wasn’t stupid.

The train whistle blew, giving warning of its impending departure. Riza knelt to say goodbye to Hayate. “You’re a good boy. You be good for them, too. Okay?” She stroked his head and kissed him on the nose.

Riza stood and handed the leash to Roy. “Take care of him, sir. Goodbye, Colonel.” She saluted.

“I will, I promise. Good luck, Lieutenant.” Mustang saluted as she boarded.

Riza took a spot in the personnel car and settled in for the ride up north.

Hawkeye rode the train up through Central, where they unloaded some supplies and picked up most of what Briggs had requested. As they made their way northward, the landscape changed from the population-dense structures of Central to open plains of green and gold, and then into snowy white as far as the eye could see. Buildings began to poke through the sea of white, sporadically at first, slowly growing in concentration.

The train pulled into the station at North City, where a dozen Briggs soldiers had come to unload the freight. They packed everything onto trucks for the drive up to the fort; Riza was given a seat in the back of the front cargo truck, with the majority of the soldiers. She felt out of place in her blue uniform amongst the men all dressed in white. They didn’t speak much, but they were cordial and happy enough to welcome Hawkeye into their brotherhood.

Unlike the soldiers, the landscape was cold and empty. There was nothing but snow and ice for miles in any direction. Standing tall in the distance, creeping ever closer, were the mountains of Briggs. A dark steel form began to take shape between the rocky peaks as the trucks ate up the miles. Fort Briggs loomed near: her home for the foreseeable future.

Olivier sat at her desk going over Hawkeye’s transfer paperwork. Endless hours of paperwork followed for the most mundane of tasks; it occasionally made her wish it would drown her. But then, that would only mean more paperwork. Everything in the file was in order, so she gave her final signature.

Major Miles, thankfully, interrupted. “Sir, the train reached North City and the trucks are on their way.”

“Thank you, Miles. Go down and see that everything is ready for their approach. I’ll meet you down there before they get here.”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded.

Olivier was looking forward to Hawkeye’s arrival, but there was no sense in her standing around for nearly an hour. She busied herself with office work until the time came to be in place for an appropriate first impression on her new officer. First impressions were lasting, after all.

The trucks rolled through the bay door into a large hangar. As soon as they came to a stop, the men jumped out and immediately started to offload the supplies onto carts to be distributed throughout the fort. Hawkeye hopped down and pulled her bags from the back of the truck.

Olivier Armstrong stood at the top of a long ramp, watching over their entrance from above. Her hands clasped casually atop the pommel of her sword, which was held out in front of her, the tip of the scabbard against the concrete. “Welcome to Fort Briggs, Lieutenant Hawkeye.” She announced.

Riza snapped to attention and her eyes set on General Armstrong. The wind billowing through the open hangar door whipped her long coat and pale blonde hair around her in a whirlwind of azure and gold. Her fierce blue eyes were fixed on Hawkeye as she came down the ramp. She hooked the sword onto her belt without even a glance down.

Riza was suitably awed. If she had not been so anxious about meeting the purportedly toughest general in Amestris, she would have thought it incredibly alluring. As it was, she had to impress her new commanding officer and live up to the expectations of her reputation. Riza clenched her jaw and held her chin stiff as she watched General Armstrong stalk toward her.

Deep in the back of Olivier’s brain, a very carefully constrained part of herself was having a moment because she had in no way been prepared for how attractive Riza Hawkeye was. Her broad shoulders, the strong jaw, her oddly piercing eyes—all struck Olivier and she struggled to want to focus on anything else. Her face remained stoic and blank, a skill developed over many years of practice—give away nothing of your thoughts and more of them will come to fruition. She took her time before speaking, burying her faltering mental composure under the presumption of intimidation. Olivier looked Riza over and stopped in front of her, just closer than would usually be comfortable, staring her directly in the eyes.

“This is Major Miles.” Olivier gestured to the man in suspiciously dark glasses at her heels. “He’ll show you to your quarters and give you a brief tour of the areas of the fort you’ll need to be familiar with. But first, report to the doctor. Miles will escort you.” She instructed.

“Yes, sir, General Armstrong.” Riza’s gaze never faltered from Olivier’s. Not least of all because of the striking vibrancy of her eyes. Their sharpness hinted at profound depths, but belied none of her thoughts.

Olivier walked past Riza to speak with the man in charge of the incoming supplies, leaving Riza in Miles’ care.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I’ll show you to your quarters first so you can drop off your bags.”

His voice was surprisingly deep; but comfortingly warm. They chatted idly through the halls until they reached Hawkeye’s room.

They stopped at the door and Riza turned to him. “Are you Ishvalan?”

He laughed and took off his glasses, revealing the telltale red eyes. “It didn’t take you long at all. A quarter Ishvalan, actually. Some traits just run strong.” He said with a smile as he replaced his glasses. “Is that a problem?”

There didn’t seem to be any malice behind his question. “No.” She replied with a heavy weight to her voice. “Not for me.”

“Good. Come on, we’ve got some ground to cover before dinner and you still have to get checked out by the doc.”

Miles led Riza to the doctor’s office and waited in the hall for her.

“Hello.” The doctor greeted warmly. “This is just a standard physical the general wants all new troops to receive given the amount of time spent in closed quarters. Nothing out of the ordinary, just going to check your lungs, heart, eyes. Though I expect yours are fine.” She laughed at her own small joke.

Riza nodded. The doctor read over Hawkeye’s medical record, which was rather short, before commencing the physical exam. Riza was grateful that she wasn’t very intrusive when checking her lungs. She listened to Riza’s breathing, poked around in her ears, checked the back of her throat, and shone a light in her eyes a few times. It was nothing new. Just a quick prod to make sure that she wasn’t in the early stages of some respiratory illness that could be potentially devastating to the troops if it began to spread.

“You seem in excellent health; heart, lungs, and eyes all clear. You’ve got a clean medical record, everything’s in good order. But you’ll need to take those earrings out.”

Riza looked confused. “Why?”

“If you leave them in for extended periods—especially in the winter—you run the risk of frostbite. You’ll learn pretty quickly up here that the cold can burn as harshly as fire, it just takes longer.”

“Oh.” The weather would take some getting used to. “Thank you for the warning.”

The doctor smiled at her. “Just doing my job. You will need to be mindful of any numbness or discomfort in your fingers, toes, nose, and ears particularly. The number one health problem up here is frostbite. The second is the coffee.”

Riza chuffed. “It’s that bad?”

“You’ll see.” She laughed softly. “You’re free to go. But if you have any concerns at all that you might have trouble with the cold, let me know immediately. We need to get to it before there is any tissue damage.”

She nodded. “Thank you, doc.”

Riza returned to the hall to find Miles, leaning patiently against the wall.

“All done?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” Riza answered. “Got the all clear.”

“Excellent. Let’s get moving, the fort’s bigger than you think.”

Riza settled into her quarters after a lot of walking and a dinner of respectable food. Her new space wasn’t much, but it was more than she had expected. A benefit of being an officer. The room was a small studio space with a wood-frame bed to one side. Next to the bed was an end table with a plain clock on it. At the opposite end of the space was a kitchenette with a small sink, a short bit of countertop, and a two burner stovetop. In the center was a wooden table with two chairs. Tucked behind the door was a small coat closet, and against the back wall was a three drawer dresser. Off in the corner was a private washroom.

It was still early evening, so Riza readied a kettle for tea to help relax after a rather full day. There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.” She called, expecting Major Miles or a soldier running a message for morning duties.

Olivier Armstrong entered and the air went out of Riza. She had an aura that immediately commanded your attention and in small private quarters it was similar to getting hit in the gut.

“Oh.” Riza went to attention. "General, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No need for that, Hawkeye.” Olivier waved off the formalities, her motivations for visiting were less than professional.

Riza relaxed, but still held a tautness in her body.

Hawkeye’s quarters carried the heat of one unaccustomed to the north: that would come in time. Olivier draped her heavy coat over the back of one of the chairs before taking a seat. “Are you settling in all right? Briggs is quite the contrast to your usual posting.”

Riza returned to her tea, trying to hide her nerves. “I’ll get used to it, sir.” She replied in a confident tone.

“Good.” Olivier crossed her leg on her knee and laid her sword across the table. She focused her attention on Riza, taking the time to soak her in. She had delightfully broad, strong shoulders that she held square, even at rest. Her movements were precise and her eyes keen. “I hear you have a reputation for making an excellent cup of tea.”

“Yes, sir.” Riza reached for a second cup while asking, “Would you like some?”

“Yes, please. I like to pass judgement for myself rather than rely on reputation.” She relaxed back into the chair. “It’s been a long time since I had a good cup of tea.”

“I will try not to disappoint then.” Riza smiled nervously over her shoulder. “This is some I brought with me, but I’m afraid that it won’t be quite as good as I usually make. I didn’t bring any honey and there doesn’t seem to be any in the fort.”

“It always freezes. It isn’t worth the effort, or the ration spot, when sugar is just as good.” She could hear the anxiety in Riza’s voice, despite how much she tried to hide it. The weight of living up to expectations was something Olivier was starkly personally familiar with. It probably didn’t help that it was well-known that her bar was high. “I’m sure it will still be better than anything here.” Olivier assured her.

Riza set the cups on the table and poured for each of them. She added sugar to her own, in lieu of honey.

Olivier took hers plain. She held the cup to her lips, appreciating the smell. The scent was a far cry from the shavings of tea bricks that were brought to the fort. It was earthy and light, floral without being cloying, with a hint of bitter orange at the back. She took a sip; the flavor was just as lovely as the scent promised. She let it sit on her tongue before swallowing, relishing the heat sliding down her throat. “It’s delicious.”

A sliver of tension released from Riza’s body. “Thank you.” She smiled.

She had a beautiful smile, Olivier noticed. Her dark eyes were guarded, but still warm and welcoming. Olivier took another sip, enjoying the view before speaking. “I’d like you to take your firearms to the range tomorrow. Test them all and then make any adjustments necessary because of the cold.”

“Yes, sir.” Riza said.

“You will probably need to change your oil. Those commonly used in Central and East Command aren’t rated for the weather here. I’d hate for you to have your guns lock up.”

Riza nodded, it wasn’t a surprise.

Olivier lifted the cup to her lips, eying Hawkeye over the rim. Riza’s eyes flitted carefully over her, absorbing as much as she could. She set the cup down. “Are you nervous, Hawkeye?”

Riza took a sip to cover her anxious swallow. It served no purpose to lie to Olivier Armstrong. “A little, sir.”

Olivier leaned forward, her eyes heavy on Riza. “There’s no reason to be. All I ask of my soldiers is that you do your job, and do it well. Ask nothing of your men that you wouldn’t willingly do yourself. Be forthright; be aware of your limitations, but show no weakness. You’re a leader to these men now, be the soldier you hope they will become. Can you do that, Hawkeye?”

Riza looked her in the eyes. “Without a doubt,” she answered truthfully.

Olivier smiled and leaned back in her chair, holding Riza’s stare. “Then you’ll do fine.” She took a long sip, finishing off the remainder of her tea. “Remember that everything you’ve heard about me in East Command was the words of men who did not meet those simple requirements and ran back south with their egos bruised.” She stood and threw her coat over her shoulders like a cloak. “Ask any of my men and they’ll tell you truthfully what kind of leader I am. You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

Riza followed Olivier’s gaze as she stood and nodded sternly. “That’s worth remembering.”

“Good evening, lieutenant. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” Olivier flashed a polite smile before leaving.

Riza sighed, the last bit of tension releasing as the air in the room settled in Olivier’s absence. General Armstrong’s intensity would take some getting used to.

* * *

Riza brought her firearms to the range in the belly of Briggs to ascertain the level of effectiveness for each through a brief set of trials. Her rifle suffered the worst; the bolt sticking after only the second shot. She spent the afternoon cleaning and oiling her guns to suit the conditions of Briggs. They would need to be tested again in the morning, but she had confidence for their performance.

Olivier came by at approximately the same time in the evening. The temperature in Hawkeye’s quarters was already a couple of degrees cooler, she noticed with pleasure.

Riza had expected Olivier this time, and so the initial reaction wasn’t nearly as rough. But it still struck her briefly to look at Olivier or to have her eyes on her. She had already set tea for two. “Would you like a cup again?”

“Yes, if you would, please.” Olivier took the same seat as before. “You had trouble with your firearms?”

“Yes. The lubricant was not up to the conditions. I spoke with the range master before cleaning them. They should be able to stand up even in winter now.” Riza poured for each of them and settled.

Olivier tasted the tea, savoring the swarm of subtle notes. “Good. As you know, in winter we’ll have East Command here for training exercises. I look forward to seeing your contribution to our efforts this time.”

“Gladly, sir. I look forward to it myself.” Riza smiled. The challenge appealed to her, but more satisfying was the idea of impressing Olivier. “I would like to test my firearms again tomorrow, take them through a full trial.”

Olivier nodded, approving of Hawkeye’s meticulousness. “When you’re sure they’re in good order, call for Major Miles. I’d like to see your skills for myself.”

“Yes, sir.” Riza eased a bit, the edginess of being around General Armstrong already beginning to fade.

Olivier took the opportunity to linger with Riza. Her company was delightful and comforting. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, and Olivier was always willing to pass pleasant conversation with a beautiful woman. She took careful measure of how Riza watched her, especially when she thought Olivier’s attention was elsewhere. The way Riza’s gaze constantly drifted back and forth between her eyes and her mouth, the way she kept an eye on Olivier when she looked idly around the room. Olivier dared not read too much into it, but the evidence suggested that perhaps Riza might be likewise interested in more time spent in private.

Their cups drained, Olivier could no longer extend her excuse for staying in Riza’s quarters. She stood and Riza followed. “It’s getting late. I enjoyed the tea, Hawkeye. Thank you for indulging me in some delightful conversation.” They made their way slowly to the door.

“You’re welcome any time, General.” Riza promised.

Olivier smiled from the doorway. “Good night, Lieutenant.”

Riza returned the smile. She was slowly adjusting to Olivier’s presence. “Good night.”

* * *

In the morning, Hawkeye took her firearms to the range again. She ran a couple of magazines through each to be sure everything was functioning optimally. Satisfied with their operation, she asked the range master to call for Miles. While waiting for Olivier, she went to set fresh targets.

It didn’t take long for Miles and General Armstrong to arrive. “Everything is in order?” Olivier asked.

“Yes, sir.” Riza nodded as she holstered her three handguns.

“Show me what you can do.” Olivier commanded, with a grin and an obvious lilt of excitement in her voice.

Riza approached the fire line and drew her main pistol. She fired on the first target at twenty yards, emptying the magazine. All rounds landed within the center ring. She released the clip, letting it fall to her feet and seamlessly loaded a fresh magazine without taking her eyes from the target. She emptied the second clip into the same target—all clean headshots. When it was spent, she drew her second pistol and moved to the next target at forty yards away. Riza repeated the exercise; one full clip center mass, quickly and smoothly reloaded, and one full clip to the head. All excellent shots, even flirting with the edge of the pistol’s effective range. Both pistols emptied, she pulled her revolver and fired on the last target at twenty yards. Five shots center mass, and the last placed between the eyes.

Miles grinned.

Riza moved to the nearest rifle lane, sparing a glance at Olivier as she crossed.

Olivier watched with a growing smile and fiercely burning eyes. She remained silent, clenching her jaw. Her hand resting on her sword tightened around the grip and her stance stiffened.

Riza picked up her rifle. Even with range rounds, at only a hundred yards, the target was insultingly close for her. She butted the stock to her shoulder. Using the iron sights, she lined up her shot and fired. A clean round through the center of the chest. She put one in each shoulder and one through the head. The last shot she put as cleanly as possible through the hole of the first.

Olivier nodded, the smile spreading across her full lips even as she bit down harder. Riza was the best marksman Olivier had seen, and she looked damned good doing it. Olivier swallowed, before speaking. “I have one more challenge for you, Hawkeye. Get your coat.”

Riza grabbed a handful of full powder rounds and met them in the hall. Olivier led the way out onto the wall.

Once outside, Olivier handed Riza a pair of binoculars and gestured toward the nearest mountainside. “There used to be a series of signal bells and beacons used throughout the pass here. Compared to radio and telephone, the system is slow and dangerous, so it’s no longer in use. But most of the bells and beacon towers remain.”

Riza scanned up the mountain until she found a large bronze bell hanging from a timber frame on a flat clifftop. The remnants of a once-bright red ribbon hung from the clapper, swaying slightly in the breeze.

“Hit the bell.” Olivier demanded. She watched Hawkeye’s response carefully.

Riza lowered the binoculars and looked at her. “That won’t cause an avalanche?”

“It’s the middle of summer, there hasn’t been fresh snow on these peaks in over a month. The likelihood is practically nonexistent.”

Riza looked back to the mountainside. She could just catch the flash of the ribbon with her naked eye. “How far is it?”

“Two and a half miles.” Olivier answered, her bright eyes focused on Hawkeye.

Riza’s gaze steeled as she mentally processed the shot. It was near the edge of the rifle’s capabilities; the wind was steady, but weak, and the elevation was about level. She chambered a round and knelt, resting the forestock on the railing. She located the bell in the scope, watching the ribbon flutter. She took a moment to do the math in her head.

Olivier watched Riza as she calculated. Her eyes sharpened as she concentrated, her brow furrowing. She pursed her lips as her focus steadied

Riza raised the barrel up and over, took a breath, and pulled the trigger.

The next twenty seconds were agonizingly long, but Olivier’s eyes never left Riza. Hawkeye stood, holding the rifle at rest. Her eyes were on the mountain, but her attention was on Olivier watching her. Finally, a deep metallic clang reached their ears.

Olivier grinned wickedly. “Excellent. Starting tomorrow run drills with the men. I’ll leave it to your discretion how best to proceed. If you need anything, speak with Captain Buccaneer or Miles.”

“Yes, sir.” Riza nodded.

Olivier and Miles returned inside. Riza looked at the bell and smiled. It felt wonderful to be in Olivier’s good graces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wife told me I ought to include my scene titles/notes for this because many of them are amusing. So, for this chapter we have:  
> ~transfer order  
> ~Roy Mustang mantrum #1  
> ~Adios, East City  
> ~Welcome to Fort Briggs  
> ~check up  
> ~tea with Olivier #1  
> ~tea with Olivier #2  
> ~the Hawk's Eye


	2. Lessons in Holding Your Guard

Riza found herself spending more time in the gym than had been her habit before—a consequence of not having much else available to fill her free time. She was in the middle of a session when she noticed a large group of soldiers had amassed around the wrestling mat. Riza wandered over out of curiosity. The men seemed to be taking turns sparring with one another. Hand to hand combat had never been her strong point, but she could hold her own. Riza settled into the group, studying each victory as one after the other they went to the mat; watching to learn. Each match ended with cheering and applause for both participants.

The din in the room came to a sudden and sharp silence. Riza followed the attention of all the soldiers to see General Armstrong standing at the edge of the mat.

“Don’t stop on my account.” She called out.

The winner of the previous match stood frozen on the mat. The man who’d been his next opponent stepped back into the crowd.

Olivier swept her coat off her arms in a single motion and handed it off the Miles at her side, followed by her sword. Riza’s mouth went a little dry. Olivier unbuttoned her uniform shirt and passed that off as well. She stepped onto the mat in just her black undershirt, stretching and flexing her arms. Riza realized for the first time just how muscular her body was; she slowly licked her lips.

The previous victor stepped back into the crowd.

“No one wants to play now?” Her voice was tinged with disappointment. The room was silent. Enough of them had faced Olivier in sparring matches before to know how harsh their defeat would be. “None of you want to face me? Pathetic.” She growled in frustration.

Riza cleared her throat and stepped forward. “I’ll go.”

Olivier grinned wide. A hum of whispers circled around the two women on the mat. Riza knew she didn’t stand a chance. Olivier had a reputation for her close combat skills as possibly the best in Amestris. But maybe Riza would get lucky and give a decent bout. Regardless of the outcome though, she’d have impressed Olivier, and that was what she cared about.

Riza took in the form of Olivier without her coat and uniform shirt. The same black undershirt that fit Riza comfortably, strained tightly around Olivier’s biceps and shoulders. Riza swallowed; Olivier’s arms were larger than she’d imagined. She settled into a fighting stance and took a steady breath in to calm her body and focus her mind.

Olivier smiled viciously. Her biceps flexed as she moved her arms, probing Riza’s defenses and testing her reaction. There was an animalistic flicker in her bright blue eyes. Riza swallowed hard. Olivier feinted to her left, just enough for Riza to bite and shift her guard to her strong side.

Riza saw the bright lights on the gym ceiling and then Olivier took up her entire field of vision. Her senses began to catch up. Riza’s back hurt where she had hit the mat. Olivier’s knee was between her thighs and her wrists were held tight, pinned against the mat above her head.

Olivier’s hair fell like a curtain, blocking their faces from the crowd. Riza didn’t move. Olivier gave her a moment to process her defeat, taking the opportunity to enjoy her position. She reveled in the feeling of Riza’s body beneath her.

Riza stared into those icy blue eyes. They were fierce and sharp, almost feral. She wondered briefly how something so cool could burn so ardently. Her eyes wandered down to Olivier’s mouth. The full lips were crooked up at the corners in a self-satisfied smile. Riza swallowed and licked her lips, her thoughts momentarily on how soft they must be and what they’d feel like against her own.

Olivier watched Riza’s warm eyes as they held her own, then dropped to her mouth. Her smile broadened.

Riza’s attention shot back to Olivier’s eyes, a blushing heat swelling over her face.

The smallest chuckle rumbled in Olivier’s throat before she released Hawkeye and stood.

Riza let out a huff of held breath and pushed herself up.

“Not bad, for a beginner.” Olivier brushed off her forearms. “I know you have your personal skill set, Lieutenant Hawkeye.” She reached the edge of the mat and retrieved her sword and shirt from Miles. “But you’ll have to do better than that to be Briggs material.” Olivier threw her coat on. “You will improve.” It was not a suggestion. And then Olivier was gone.

A collective sigh passed through the room and a buzz of chatter came up. Riza caught her name in a multitude of whispered voices. She paid it no mind—she was used to people’s talk. Her mind reeled from what had just happened. Olivier had clearly noticed Riza’s attraction to her. And she’d…enjoyed it?

* * *

It was early in the morning and Riza was still dressing when there was a knock at her door. She made a face as she went to answer, curious about why someone would want to speak with her so early.

General Armstrong stood at her door, a gentle smile on her face. “Good morning, Hawkeye.”

“Good morning.” Riza greeted. Her concern slipped away, put at relative ease by Olivier’s casual demeanor.

“You make an excellent cup of tea. I want to know what you can do with the coffee here.” Olivier’s smile seemed at odds with the tone of her voice.

“Oh. Come in. I think I manage all right with it.” Riza closed the door behind her.

Olivier made polite chat while Riza brewed coffee enough for the both of them. It did not go unnoticed that she seemed to purposefully avoid any mention of Riza’s utter failure at sparring just a few days prior. Riza poured two cups and added a pinch of salt to each.

“Salt is your secret?” Olivier questioned doubtfully.

Riza flashed a conspiratorial smile. “Yes. Just a pinch cuts the bitterness and smooths the flavor.”

Olivier gave a small shrug. “I trust you.”

That small statement sent a bolt through Riza’s stomach. “Would you like any sugar or cream in it?”

“No thank you. I take it black.” Olivier replied.

Riza handed her a mug and sat, watching. Olivier tasted it. The coffee was unmistakably Briggs coffee, but—to Riza’s credit—it was much better. “It’s not the best, but it’s a drastic improvement.”

Riza beamed with pride. “Thank you.” A tension began to burrow between her shoulders. She felt like conversation might ease it, but struggled to find anything to talk about. So, she brought up something that had been in the back of her mind the last few weeks. “Colonel Mustang was quite upset by my reassignment. It’s been a long time since I was not serving with him.”

Olivier clenched her jaw. Were the rumors true? Was there something between the two of them? “And do you share his sentiment?” She probed carefully.

“I’ve known Mustang most of my life, he’s a very close friend. But I can’t say I feel similarly.” Riza smiled slyly at her.

Olivier tried to hide her smile behind her cup, but Riza read the subtleties of her face easily enough to know. The tension finally dissipated and Riza found better topics to elicit conversation from Olivier.

* * *

It had become the norm now for Olivier to join Riza for tea in the late afternoon. Riza certainly enjoyed being social, and she specifically enjoyed Olivier’s company.

Olivier knocked and Riza called for her to enter without the need to ask who it was. She took her usual seat at the table and watched Riza while she poured the tea at the counter.

Riza brought the cups to the table. She sank into her chair and sighed. “I’m almost out of this.”

Olivier added a spoon of sugar, stirring until it dissolved. “How much do you have left?”

“About a week’s worth.” It would be two weeks, if she drank alone.

Olivier took a sip. “That’s a shame.”

Riza shrugged it off. “I’ll make do. There’s tea rations in the mess.”

Riza drank and let the silence fall for a while. It didn’t feel awkward with Olivier, more like settling into a space formed specifically to every comfort. Her mind wandered and she made commentary. “I’ve been spending some time sparring with the other men.”

“Good.” Olivier encouraged her with a pleased smile. “You’ve got the potential to be quite good in close quarters.”

Riza replied with a quiet voice. “I am very good in close quarters; I just prefer to use a gun.”

Olivier made a small noise of approval. “May I ask why?” She hoped the answer wasn’t because it was less work.

Riza set her cup down. “So that I don’t have to feel the people I kill dying.” Olivier nodded, but said nothing yet. “It makes it more palatable. I know what I do, and I know what it means when I pull the trigger. But I don’t need to feel it when it happens.”

“I understand.” Olivier replied. “I personally don’t agree, but I understand.”

They let the conversation fade and finished their tea in silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

The next morning, Olivier handed Miles a slip of paper. “I need you to have something sent up from Central for me.”

Miles glanced at the note. The paper listed only two items: orange blossom honey and a very specific blend of tea. “Is this for the men?” He feigned ignorance.

“Personal use. If you can’t find someone who can fulfill it, call my father. When it arrives, bring it straight to me.” She ordered.

“Yes, sir. Not a problem.” He nodded, holding back his smile until she’d turned her back.

* * *

It took a week, but Olivier’s parcel arrived. Miles came into her office with the bundle under his arm. “Your package from Central arrived, sir.” He set the box on her desk.

“Thank you, Miles.” Pretending it wasn’t nearly as important to her as it was, she waited until he left the room to open it. Carefully, she pulled the jar out. As expected, the honey had crystallized and hardened, but the glass was thankfully undamaged. Olivier unscrewed the lid. Even nearly frozen, it still smelled warm and sweet and bright. She capped the jar and returned it to the box.

She knew Riza was running the men through drills and would be occupied for the day. Olivier took a small piece of paper and scribed a note on it. Folding the paper into her pocket, she tucked the package under her arm inside her coat and made for Riza’s quarters.

Olivier placed the bag of tea and the jar on the table in Riza’s room. Leaving the note on top for her to find later.

Riza entered her room and immediately saw the gift on the table. She pushed the door closed, but didn’t shut it to latch. She unbuttoned her uniform and hung it in the closet. Letting down her hair, she picked up the note. _‘For the perfect cup.’_ Riza opened the tea and a pleasant grassy, musky scent met her nose.

“I hope you like it; it was my favorite when I lived in Central. I haven’t had it in years.” Riza turned to see Olivier leaning against the door jamb, arms folded over her chest and ankles crossed. Having announced herself, Olivier entered, closing the door behind her.

Riza smiled. “It smells wonderful, thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”

Olivier took her seat. “It’s nothing.” She gestured to the jar. “Sorry about the honey, I told you that happens.”

Riza caught her eyes. “Sometimes the best things take time to warm up, but they’re worth the wait.” She crossed to the kitchen to put the honey to warm.

Olivier was thankful to not be under Hawkeye’s scrutiny because—for the first time in a very long time—she blushed. “The drills went well today?” She asked, pushing down her reaction.

Riza set the kettle. “Yes. Admittedly, your men are already better than most I’ve worked with.”

Nothing to do but wait, she joined Olivier at the table. “Improving them is difficult, but they’re coming along.” She picked up the bag of tea and read the label attached to it. Her brow furrowed. “This sounds very expensive.”

“Yes.” Olivier gave her a look that projected her thoughts, you do remember who my family is?

Riza pursed her lips, unsure how to feel about such an extravagant gift. “Don’t worry about it. I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Okay.” Riza replied.

“It’s as much for me as it is you.” Olivier tried to mitigate her apprehension.

Riza felt a little more at ease. It didn’t slip her attention that Olivier had just admitted she’d gotten a gift for her to share. A question formed in the back of Riza’s mind and worked its way slowly forward. She was about to ask, when the kettle whistled. The moment passed and Riza let the question die before reaching her lips. Instead, she poured the tea. She wiped the jar of honey off with a towel and set it on the table. It had sufficiently warmed to be liquid enough to use.

Olivier took a spoon of honey in hers. She watched Riza’s face before taking a sip herself.

Riza tasted the tea. Its flavor was warm and blossomed in her mouth, tasting first of sweet lemon, fading into orange, and ending on a light floral flavor that almost seemed to cleanse her palate for the next swallow. “It’s delicious.” She looked up at Olivier. “This is a very lovely gift. Thank you.”

Olivier smiled warmly at her. “You’re welcome.”

* * *

This was, without a doubt, the single stupidest thing Riza Hawkeye had ever done. With every step she thought of a new way this could go wrong. But the hope that it could go right—the faith that it would go right—was enough to keep her walking toward Major General Olivier Armstrong’s quarters before bed.

The cold had settled in by now and she hardly noticed it anymore, so Riza was comfortable in just her undershirt without a heavier top. It wouldn’t have mattered though at the moment, given the amount of nervous energy setting her entire body on fire. She came to Olivier’s door and stopped. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she steeled herself before she knocked. Either she’d be scraping ice off the wall until she was eighty or…

“This better be important. Who is it?” Olivier sounded obviously irritated.

Riza swallowed nervously at the tone of Olivier’s voice. “Lieutenant Hawkeye, sir.”

Olivier opened the door. “What do you need?” She still had on her uniform pants and the black undershirt that clung so tightly to her body.

Riza cleared her throat and pushed forward. “I have been training and I wondered if I could ask you a question.”

“What is it, Lieutenant?” Olivier’s tone had relaxed, but was still stiff.

 _‘This is it. This hallway is where I die. Goodbye Hayate, mommy loved you.’_ Riza was unaware that the look in her eye was giving her away. She kept her attention on Olivier’s face. Was she smirking behind that wave of blonde hair?

“I was hoping you could show me that take down you used on me. I’d like to improve my areas of weakness.”

“Right now?” Olivier’s voice sounded almost amused.

Riza had flashes of her obituary in the paper: _‘Murdered by Major General Armstrong for attempted fraternization with a commanding officer.’_ Riza’s mouth felt dry. “Yes, sir.”

Olivier tipped her head back slightly and looked Riza up and down. Hawkeye held her ground, committed to whatever end may come. Olivier turned to walk into the interior of her quarters, leaving Riza in the open doorway. “Close the door behind you.”

Riza let out an audible sigh. She watched Olivier stride across the room to a pair of pocket doors. Riza stared as the muscles in her back and shoulders flexed as she pushed them open. Beyond the doors was a small training space.

“You have a gym in your quarters?” She hadn’t meant for the thought to be spoken.

“I prefer to train alone, without distractions.”

That seemed reasonable, given that she was one of now three women in the entire fort. And that she could probably easily outlift nearly every man here. Riza surveyed the room. There was a rack of weights, some machines, a few pells, and a mat in the center. She noticed this room was larger than the front one Olivier used as a bedroom. This was probably intended to be the primary living space, while the other was meant as a parlour.

“Come here.” Olivier called from the center of the mat.

Riza obeyed and joined her, readying a fight stance.

Olivier took one look at her and saw the tension in her limbs. “Relax or I’m going to hurt you.” Her tone was soft.

Riza took a slow breath and closed her eyes. She relaxed as she exhaled. _‘She’s not going to kill you; you haven’t committed professional suicide. Calm down, Riza.’_ She opened her eyes.

“Pay attention.” Olivier gave Riza a second to focus and then lunged.

Riza tried to pay attention this time, to be aware of where she felt Olivier against her body, but the woman was so damned fast. Riza found herself in the same position: wrists pinned above her head, Olivier’s knee between her thighs, and her deceptively strong body pressing against her. Except this time there was no crowd of ogling subordinates. There was no one to pretend for.

Olivier made little attempt to hide her smile as she stared down at Riza for a long moment. “What did I do?”

Riza looked into Olivier’s crystal blue eyes. She tried to replay the attack in her mind, but it was hard to focus on anything other than Olivier’s surprisingly soft hands around Riza’s wrists and her face so close. “You swept my leg and grabbed my wrists.”

Olivier’s eyes tightened. “How?”

Riza felt like those eyes could cut right through her. She thought, but she genuinely wasn’t sure. “I don’t know.”

Olivier rose, ready to go again. “Up.” She requested with a kind voice. “I’ll go slow this time.”

Riza stood and got into stance. With a stern face and purposeful focus, she nodded.

“Rush your opponent.” Olivier stepped forward, into Riza’s space. “Get inside their guard and wrap them up, pinning their arms against their sides.” Olivier demonstrated on her. Riza inhaled sharply as Olivier held her against her body. “If you’re quick, like me, you can grab their wrists. It’s risky because you can miss and then they have the advantage. But if you’re successful, you can use their arms as fulcrums to push them down instead of just your body.” She took a step back, grabbed Riza’s wrists and pushed down and forward as she stepped into Riza again. “The leg is the hardest; you have to measure your strides so that you meet their forward leg with yours. Plant with your off foot and wrap your leg behind theirs. Pull with your leg and push with your body.”

Olivier exhibited the process as slowly as she could. She lorded over Riza on the mat again. “If you do it properly, your leg will slip free to steady yourself. Your other knee will be between your opponent’s thighs and their wrists above their head. You pin one leg with your pelvis, and put your knee on the muscle and hold it down. Or you can shove your knee into the inside of their thigh and push the leg too wide to leverage. Now you control their whole body.”

Riza swallowed hard. Olivier’s hips pressed down on her thigh and her leg was spread wide. She could feel the heat flushing up her neck and across her cheeks.

Olivier smiled, inches away from Riza’s face. “Do you understand, Lieutenant?” She purred.

Riza pushed herself to focus. “Yes, sir. I believe so.”

“Show me.” Olivier jumped to her feet.

Riza swallowed and let out a long breath before she stood. Mentally, she went over the maneuver and then moved on Olivier. It was ugly and a little stilted, but Riza managed to get her down. Fighting the self-conscious pit in her stomach, she hoped the heat between her thighs was not obvious against Olivier’s leg.

“Good.” Olivier smiled up at Riza, her eyes bright. “Try it again. Faster this time.”

They rose and Riza felled her again. Smoother this time, her muscles learning the movements.

“Good. Again.” Olivier grinned.

They practiced until Riza was visibly winded. Olivier wouldn’t admit it, but her body was beginning to ache. The obvious tightness in Riza’s body was distracting in a very pleasant way and there was only so much she would endure before giving into the blaze that was kindling inside her. “That’s enough for tonight.” Olivier walked slowly back into her bedroom.

Riza silently stared at Olivier’s muscles glistening with sweat as she followed.

“You’ve got the movement down. Now work on speed.” Olivier instructed.

Riza nodded agreement. She wiped sweat from her forehead with her arm, hoping to hide her blush.

“You learn quickly, that’s very good.” Olivier complimented her.

“Thank you.” Riza moved toward the door, lingering hopefully for…something.

“Get some rest, Lieutenant. There’s always work to be done in Briggs.”

“Yes, sir.” Riza put her hand on the doorknob, discouraged.

“Hawkeye.” Olivier said softly. Riza looked over her shoulder. Olivier leaned back against the end of her bed, arms spread wide, bracing against the footboard. “If you need any more training advice, don’t be afraid to come ask me.”

Despite her attempt to hide her expression, Riza’s eyes went wide. “Yes, uh, sir.”

Olivier tilted her head back with a smug grin across her lips. “Good night, Hawkeye.”

* * *

It was a calm autumn day, so Riza had taken the men outside to run drills. Olivier stood on a platform overlooking the training session below. She was excited for the opportunity to watch Riza at work, both with her firearms and with the men.

Riza had laid out steel barricades set up at angles to each other for cover, and an array of targets downfield. As Olivier watched, Riza gave her instructions and began to run through the drill herself. The wind was against her, so Olivier sadly could not hear her voice. Riza had a gentle, but firm voice and Olivier had the odd thought that she would have been a good mother.

Riza approached the first steel barricade. Drawing her rifle, she put a round down range. She ducked back into cover to chamber a round and then fire again without taking the time to aim properly. Her shots landed well. Riza left the rifle and drew her pistol, mimicking a rifle malfunction or running dry of ammo. She ran from one barricade to the next, placed slightly forward; firing as she ran. It wasn’t crucial that shots in that circumstance hit their mark, but hers did. Behind the barricade, she reloaded.

Drawing again, Riza aimed over the edge of the barricade and fired on several targets in succession. She drew her other pistol and stood. Approaching the last target head on, she fired until the magazine was empty. The entire drill took only a couple of minutes.

Olivier watched as the men went through it. The first soldier missed the second shot with the rifle. While his cover fire hit some of the wood around the targets, his shots mostly flew past into the snowy flats beyond. Riza let him finish the exercise and then showed him what he could do to improve. She handed him the rifle and asked him to repeat the first part of the drill. He did markedly better. Riza clapped him on the shoulder and nodded her head. She called the next man up to try.

The wind shifted toward Olivier and she was able to catch bits of what was being said. As each soldier ran through the drill, Riza gave them gentle guidance and genuine compliments for their renewed attempts. She was a natural teacher; patient, precise, and encouraged the men to strive for better while praising their current strengths. Buccaneer was excellent, but Riza’s demeanor seemed to have a positive effect on the men.

Olivier nodded to herself, smiling proudly. It had indeed been the right decision to request Riza’s transfer. She certainly did not mind her presence. Riza’s wit was as sharp as her aim and she was delightfully easy on the eyes. Olivier clenched her jaw, an uncharacteristic flutter jumping in her stomach. She gripped the pommel of her sword as she collected herself. No longer able to keep up the personal charade of watching just to see how Hawkeye was with the men, Olivier went inside and returned to her office.

* * *

An irritating restlessness had sat deep in Olivier’s body all day long. Sleep would not be forthcoming without some sort of release. She changed into something unrestrictive and began stretching, intending to work out until she was finally worn out.

There was a knock at her door. Olivier snarled in frustration and reached for her coat. “What is it?”

“It’s Hawkeye. You said I could come to you for training advice.”

Olivier growled with absolute pleasure; Riza was exactly the release she needed. She opened the door sporting a lascivious smile. “Yes?”

Riza’s eyes went wide. Olivier stood in the doorway, one hand on the edge of the door behind her and the other against the doorframe. She wore a black tank top that left little of her athletic form to the imagination. It took a moment for Riza to find her words. “Can you show me how to avoid that pin?”

Olivier shifted her weight to her front leg, leaning slightly into the door jamb. “I can. But it won’t be comfortable.”

“I want…to…know.” Riza’s voice slowly trailed off as her eyes drifted down Olivier’s body to the shockingly short shorts she had on, showing off the thick muscles of her thighs. Riza licked her lips.

Olivier chuckled low to herself, she knew exactly what that meant. She let Riza in and headed to the mat, a swagger in her hips as she crossed the room. Olivier stopped in the center; she looked at Riza. “Come.” Her body hummed, adrenaline running through her muscles. She stretched her arms behind her back to loosen her shoulders, taking immense pleasure in the way Riza’s eyes were glued to her body. Olivier smiled salaciously. “I’ll go slow so I don’t hurt you.” She held up a hand and wagged her fingers, signaling Riza to begin.

Riza charged. Olivier stepped sideways, hooking Riza’s arm as she moved past. She twisted the arm behind Riza’s back, planted the heel of her free hand between her shoulder blades and rode her down to the mat. Her legs astride Riza’s hips, Olivier pressed her pelvis down against her more than was necessary.

Riza ground her teeth to swallow the moan threatening to escape.

Olivier bent down, her mouth close to Riza’s ear. “Did you follow?” Her voice was thick and deep.

Riza blinked to focus. “Yes,” was all she could choke out.

“Do it to me.” Olivier released Riza and stood.

Riza took a very long, slow breath before pushing herself up off the mat. She moved her arm to relax her shoulder.

Olivier waited for Riza to give her the okay. Riza licked her lips before nodding. Olivier stepped forward, moving slow to give Riza a chance to perform the move.

Riza slid sideways easily enough. She hooked Olivier’s arm, her hand sliding down to her wrist and pulling it around against her lower back. She put her hand against Olivier’s back; it felt like hitting a wall. Riza pushed her down and knelt over her hips. She slid her hand across Olivier’s back to pin her shoulder. Her muscles felt like warm marble. Riza shuddered, involuntarily pushing her body down against Olivier.

Riza’s pin was too loose at every point. In one quick, fluid motion Olivier swung her arm from behind her and rolled onto her back. Riza’s hand slipped off her shoulder onto the mat. Olivier grabbed Riza’s arm and with a quick thrust of her leg, flipped her over her head. Riza landed on her back, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

Olivier followed her over in a smooth roll and landed on top of her, a wolfish grin curling her delicious lips. “You need to commit to your pins. You have to,” she ground her hips into Riza, “press your body into it.” Olivier let the weight of her body sink onto Riza, settling suggestively against her. She felt the growing heat between Riza’s thighs. “Try again.” Olivier released her.

Riza’s ears thundered with each heartbeat. She took time to catch her breath before rising. Nodding to Olivier, she tried again. This time she held Olivier’s arm taut and pressed her pelvis down onto her body, keeping her hand firmly between her shoulder blades.

Olivier laughed. “Better.”

Riza pulled her hand from Olivier’s back and let go of the hammerlock hold. Olivier rolled onto her back beneath Riza. Hawkeye didn’t get up. Olivier placed her hands on Riza’s hips. There was a moment before she spoke, both women stared at each other. Neither wanted to move, lest the moment be lost. Olivier felt the subtle tightening of Riza’s thighs around her body.

Olivier finally spoke, her voice thick with temptation. “Are you going to get off?”

Riza looked down at her with the subtlest smirk. “Are you going to let me?”

Olivier pulled her hands away from Riza’s hips and tucked her them behind her head, flexing her biceps. She arched an eyebrow. “I’m not stopping you.”

Riza didn’t immediately move, but as she felt the red heat rushing up her chest and neck, she jumped up—more to hide her blush than from any desire to leave.

Olivier laughed softly as she got to her feet. She moved back into position, her body begging for more. More touch, more intimacy, more of Riza pressed against her. Riza got into an unsteady stance opposite her, more than willing to continue as long as Olivier would allow her.

They went on for a while, until Olivier backed herself near the wall. Her body was screaming for release, angry with this teasing game of unsatisfactory intimacy. Riza stepped in for a grapple. Olivier grabbed her by the hips and spun her around. She slammed Riza against the wall with a fierce growl.

Riza grabbed onto Olivier’s arms, her pupils flared. Her gaze flicked from Olivier’s burning eyes down to her lips. Riza’s grip on her biceps tightened.

Olivier pressed her hips against Riza and watched her eyes go wide again. A small gasp slipped out of Riza and Olivier’s body flexed reactively. Olivier chuckled in the back of her throat—a deep, savage sound that conjured an animalistic pulse through Riza. Olivier kissed her like a wave of fire overtaking a meadow. Her teeth bit into the soft flesh of Riza’s bottom lip and Riza’s breath caught.

Riza kissed back, the pretense between them finally burned away. Olivier traced her tongue over Riza’s lip, half demanding, half begging permission. Riza gripped onto Olivier’s arms tighter, pulling her closer. Riza’s tongue tentatively met hers. Olivier dug her grip into Riza’s hip and grabbed the back of her neck, commanding her kiss. Olivier ravished her mouth. She could feel Riza’s pulse race beneath her fingertips, her breath coming shallow and quick. Olivier pressed hungrily into her, her body pleading for Riza’s touch.

Riza’s stomach tightened, her throat quivered. With a subtle shudder through her entire body, Riza let out a moan.

Olivier caught control of herself and shoved back away from her. “Get out,” she snarled.

All at once the only thing that had filled every last stretch of Riza’s senses was gone and she felt a bitter, stinging hollowness. Her mind processed and her body slowly fell in. Olivier’s eyes were like frozen fire on her, burning in a very different and terrifying way. What had just a moment ago been so sensual, was now unsettling and uncomfortable. But Riza couldn’t look away from her eyes.

Olivier turned away from her. “Get out, Lieutenant,” she barked, leaving no room for discussion. Her hand trembled as she wiped her mouth.

Riza gritted her teeth, confused, but mostly angry. “Yes, sir.” Her voice was cold, stiff with ire. She went to the door without a glance back.

Olivier watched over her shoulder as Riza left, unwilling to allow her full attention to the woman. The door slammed shut and Olivier was left alone.

The tears came silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost forgot these notes. chapter scene titles:  
> ~sparring 1 (public)  
> ~coffee talk 1  
> ~tea with Olivier #3  
> ~honey  
> ~sparring 2 electric boogaloo  
> ~Olivier watching Riza run drills  
> ~sparring 3, poor Riza gets blue balled


	3. Two Paths Diverged

It had been nearly a week of Olivier being angry and abrupt—harsh, even for her. At first Miles chalked it up to poor sleep or something else mundane. But it persisted. He also noticed that Hawkeye, even though he didn’t know her very well yet, seemed equally guarded and short.

Something needed to be done about it. Miles squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He was going in as a friend, but he’d have to make it look like he was going in as her adjutant.

Miles entered Olivier’s office and closed the door. “General, do you have a moment?”

Olivier glared up at him from her desk; not biting his head off was an answer in itself.

He took the seat opposite her desk before he began. “How long have I served under your command?”

Olivier considered the question. “Years.”

“You’d agree that I, arguably, know you better than anyone else?” He asked plainly.

“Yes.” Her patience was thinning already.

“In all that time, have I ever questioned you?” His tone shifted as his footing became less sure.

“Are you calling my leadership into question?” She stared daggers at him, her hand instinctually going for the sabre leaning against the desk.

“No.” Miles said flatly. “May I speak freely, sir?”

She let go of the sword. “Go ahead.”

“The past few months, sir, you’ve been your best self. Which is quite the achievement for someone who is already so highly competent. Myself, the other officers, the men, we’ve all improved our performances under your leadership.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “The last few days, however, you’ve been particularly…distant.” He watched her reaction, but her face was unmoved. “I’ve noticed; the men have noticed. It’s unlike you to be quite so cold and brusque. I worry that something is weighing on your mind.” He carefully kept Hawkeye’s name off his lips. “I just wanted to offer my assistance, in whatever capacity you might need it, to resolve any issues you may be struggling with.”

Olivier ground her teeth, her jaw muscles tightening repeatedly. ‘Help’ was not something she ever sought from anyone. After a protracted silence she seemed to relax just a little. She spoke in a formally polite voice, “Thank you, Miles, for bringing it to my attention. But I won’t be needing your assistance.”

Miles nodded. “Yes, sir.” He rose. “I’ll get back to work, then.” She said nothing in response. He left her in privacy.

“Fuck.” Olivier was not one to let her emotions affect her performance. It was hard to argue with the morale shift that had occurred though. She sat at her desk, mulling over her options. No matter how much she argued with herself, there was only the one thing to do to fix this. She sighed heavily. In a far-belated attempt to not ruin the potential for something more just to scratch an itch, she had managed to do exactly what she’d feared. She would handle it in the morning. It would be more appropriate then.

* * *

Olivier woke and wasted no time getting dressed. With squared shoulders and her characteristic determination, she went to Riza’s quarters; as she stared at the door, she felt uncharacteristically nervous. _‘This is ridiculous; what are you afraid of?'_ She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Riza was only partially dressed. This early in the morning, there was only one person it could be. While it might bite her in the ass, after their last encounter, spite got the better of her and Riza felt like making her wait. “Hold on.” She pulled on her black undershirt, tucked it in and buttoned her pants before answering.

Olivier stood in the hall, seeming both intimidating and strangely small. “May I come in, Hawkeye?”

Riza left the door open as she crossed to the kitchenette, turning her back to Olivier.

Olivier clenched her fist; she definitely deserved that. She came in and took her seat at Riza’s table.

“I was about to make coffee, would you like some?” Riza asked, her voice painfully neutral.

“Please?” Olivier asked gently. She sat in silence, waiting, fighting with herself about the words she’d say. She watched Riza, searching her body language for any kind of sign of how the other woman felt.

Riza kept her back to Olivier while she brewed the coffee, stubbornly refusing to give in. Her anxiety grew as the silence stretched, though she tried not to let Olivier see it. Finally, after an excruciating few minutes of Olivier’s eyes burning into her back, Riza turned and placed two mugs of coffee on the table before sitting.

Olivier added a spoon of sugar to her cup. “I wasn’t angry with you.” Riza stayed silent, letting her speak. Olivier paused to drink and choose her words. “I was angry with myself for losing control. That’s not an excuse for the way I treated you.” She added quickly. Olivier wouldn’t allow herself to admit that it was because she was afraid of losing the relationship she was building with Hawkeye over a meaningless encounter.

Riza sat in silence, letting her come to it on her own. Olivier looked at her, waiting for Riza to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry.” Olivier said softly. “I apologize for being so cruel and for taking advantage of you.” Olivier looked profoundly sorrowful. “I deeply regret my actions. I am sorry. Truly, Riza.” She saw Riza’s eyes soften. A smile teased the corner of Olivier’s mouth.

Her name sounded beautiful on Olivier’s lips. “You didn’t take advantage of me. I wouldn’t have let you.” Riza said confidently.

Olivier simply nodded. It was a small burden off her conscience, even if it didn’t alleviate her guilt about the situation.

“Is it because I’m a subordinate officer?” Riza asked, worry hanging on her words.

Olivier scoffed. “They might care about that in the south, but up here things are different.”

It was time to clear the air. “Did you request my transfer to try to sleep with me?”

Olivier didn’t even flinch. “Are you seducing me to climb the ranks?”

Riza laughed out loud. It was a ridiculous thing to ask, but if she hadn’t then the thought would always be there. At the sound of Riza’s laughter, a smile spread wide across Olivier’s lips. The silence settled again, warm and comfortable now.

Riza looked up at Olivier, her brilliant smile and sparkling blue eyes. It was genuinely hard to be angry at her. Riza said softly, “I forgive you.”

Ordinarily, Olivier would be irate, biting back that she neither asked for, nor wanted forgiveness. She wanted it from Riza—desperately.

Riza took the lead in Olivier’s silence. “Why did you finally come see me?”

Olivier sighed. She looked up at Riza with a gentle smile and stretched out her fingers to touch Riza’s hand on the table. “I missed you.”

Riza took Olivier’s hand. “I missed you too.”

“Besides, you’re the only one in this entire fort who can make a decent cup of coffee.”

Riza chuckled, tightening her grip on Olivier’s hand. “You’re welcome to some whenever you want.”

Olivier entwined her fingers with Riza’s. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Olivier stopped taking coffee at her desk.

* * *

Olivier sat with Riza over a cup of coffee. Riza was unusually reticent; Olivier knew what was weighing on her and approached it the only way she knew how: head on. “East Command will arrive this afternoon.”

Riza’s brows knitted tighter. “I know.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She hadn’t spoken to Mustang since the day she left for Briggs. She had once pledged her life to Roy and his mission, but had so easily thrown it aside when her own opportunity came. Would there be too much between them now? Too much distance, too much time, too much—

“What’s wrong, Riza?” Olivier asked.

Riza looked up at Olivier, her dark eyes a churning mixture of concern and confusion. “I’m not sure.” She turned her attention to her coffee. “I think I’m nervous about seeing Colonel Mustang.”

Olivier tried to hide the wound the statement bore her, but there was no getting away from how important Mustang had been to her. She touched Riza’s hand. “What are you worried about?”

Riza stared into her coffee, her brow furrowing deeper as she tried to parse out her feelings. “Change, I guess.” She looked back up at Olivier, idly running her fingers against Olivier’s hand. “Changes in a disproportionate amount.” That her life had changed so much in the last six months, and that Mustang would not have changed at all.

Olivier held Riza’s hand tight. “If he gives you trouble, let me know. I’ll gladly take the opportunity to put him in his place.”

Riza felt strangely torn about that. She let it go and focused on the warmth of Olivier’s hand in hers. “Will you be by for tea this evening?”

“I was going to let you spend your free time with your friends tonight.” Olivier fought to keep her voice even.

“Oh.” Riza tried not to look disappointed at the idea of not seeing her. “You’re right. It will be nice to see them all. We haven’t spoken since I transferred.” It seemed a lifetime ago, but half a year wasn’t really long at all.

Olivier gently squeezed her hand and smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow for coffee,” she said in consolation.

It was a reassuring promise that brought Riza comfort, even if she already knew Olivier would be there. It was nice to hear the words. Riza smiled at her and watched her blue eyes light up. “So, what’s the battle plan for tomorrow?”

* * *

The weather was kind enough to hold off for the arrival of East Command. As they disembarked the transports, there was a wave of complaining about the cold. It struck Riza as funny to be on the other end of it for the first time. Sure, it was cold, but it wasn’t really that bad. There were polite greetings all around and everyone was ushered to their temporary barracks to relax until dinner time.

Mustang and his group had taken a table in the back of the mess hall. Mostly so Roy could avoid overhearing any talk about Hawkeye from the Briggs soldiers. There wasn’t any, but he had no reason to believe there wouldn’t be. She was a beautiful woman in a fort with only two other women, neither of whom seemed interested in the attention of the men. Riza walked up to join them.

“Hawkeye!” Havoc pushed down to give Riza a seat in their midst, between himself and Breda. “Long time no see.”

“Hello everyone.” Riza sat, her spirits lifted by their excitement.

“Good evening, Hawkeye.” Roy greeted her with a sly smile.

“Evening, Mustang.” She smiled at him.

Breda jumped in. “How is it up here? I don’t know that I could stand it being this cold all the time.”

Riza shrugged. “It’s not that bad. It doesn’t exactly warm up in the summer, but it’s not always this cold. I’ve gotten used to it, honestly. How are things down in East Command?” She looked at Mustang. “How’s Hayate?”

“Hughes came and got him. He called the other day, said Elicia and Hayate have become inseparable.”

Riza smiled. “Good.” It was exactly what she’d hoped would happen.

Breda leaned in to whisper behind his hand, “He is so behind on his paperwork.” Riza couldn’t help but laugh. Even she could barely get him to do it.

Havoc wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “What’s it like being the only chick who’s not terrifying up here with all these men? Any of these boys give you any trouble?”

Riza tried not to blush. “No, no trouble at all.” Not from the men. She looked across the table at Mustang who looked just as painfully awkward about the question as she felt. “They’re all very polite to me.” They would have been, regardless. But it was obvious to anyone who had seen Hawkeye with their general that it wouldn’t have done any good to chat her up. And worse, it might end with ice duty.

“Seems a waste for you to be up here all alone. Breda’s pretty face just isn’t the same as seeing yours every day.” Havoc continued.

Breda made a kissy face at him. “You know you secretly love seeing me every morning.”

“Well, maybe if Colonel ever gets to implement his mini skirt policy, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Mustang turned a little red on the cheeks. Breda put his leg up on the bench, “You couldn’t handle these babies in a skirt.”

Riza gave a beleaguered smile at Roy. They were putting on a show for her sake, making light to put her at ease about having left. The truth was that she’d left them as much as she had Roy. Even if they didn’t quite feel the sting as sharply. Mustang smirked and leaned back against the wall behind him.

Breda and Havoc joked about Havoc prancing around in a skirt and whether or not that would get him any dates. The consensus was that it would, but probably not the ones he wanted.

Mustang finally chimed in. “If you ever want to give drag a try, Havoc, I know a place that puts on regular shows. I’m sure a face like yours could win a few contests.”

“He’s got to make sure his make up is on point, though.” Riza added, looking at Havoc sidelong. “He’s got a good jawline, but the wrong contours could utterly destroy those cheekbones.”

Havoc started to redden, they’d taken the game from him and run with it. “I am not doing a drag show.”

“Why not?” Fuery asked, his small voice perking up. “Are you worried you might turn yourself on?”

“Hey!” Havoc yelled, before taking a moment to try to figure out if that had been an insult or not. “Wait…”

* * *

Olivier sat at her desk. The only light came from a small lamp in the corner casting long shadows across the room. It gave out barely enough light to keep the darkness at bay. She leaned back in her chair, sipping whiskey from a lowball glass.

Miles came into the room with a small stack of papers in his hand. “Oh,” he started. “General, I didn’t expect you to still be here.”

She didn’t move. “What are you doing here?” Her voice bore the flat tone that so many found unnerving, but to which Miles had long since become immune.

He placed the papers on her desk. “I was just finishing up some paperwork.”

She reached a leg under the desk and pushed the chair on the other side out for him. “Have a drink with me, Miles?”

“Yes, sir.” He answered formally out of habit. Olivier poured him three fingers worth in a fresh glass. He took the seat proffered and removed his glasses. His pink eyes seemed to gleam. He took a taste and made an approving face. “That’s good.”

Olivier gave a cold smile. “My father gave it to me when I received the assignment for Briggs.” Miles glanced at the bottle on the desk. Even in the low light, the high-end label was recognizable. “It was meant to be a celebratory gift. But I’m not stupid, I know what this assignment is: a dead end. I was too damn good for them to not promote me, but they sure as hell didn’t want to deal with me. So, they slapped a command for the farthest post they could find in my hand and called it a reward.”

“Well, sir—if I may—” She gave him a nod. “I don’t believe anyone else would have excelled as you have. I certainly don’t regret my post.” He gave a subtle smile.

Olivier chuffed and took a sip. She swirled the brown liquid in her mouth, coating her tongue with a delightful smooth burn before swallowing, feeling the alcohol slide down her throat and sinking into her stomach.

Miles tested the waters. “I thought you’d be with Hawkeye. You usually take tea with her in the evening, yes?”

Olivier was equal parts angered that he’d noticed and proud that he’d picked up the change in her habits. “She’s down in the mess hall with Mustang and the rest of her friends.”

“You could join them?” Miles offered carefully.

Olivier shook her head. “They wouldn’t act the same around me. She deserves an evening with her friends.”

Miles inclined his head. “And you’re drinking alone in the dark?”

Olivier’s eyes flashed in the light as she turned to look at him. “I’m not alone.”

He chuckled and raised his glass in her direction before taking another drink.

* * *

Olivier came for coffee as promised. “Did you have a good time last night with your friends?”

Riza smiled sadly. “Yes, it was nice to see them all again, but it felt like something was missing.” She caught Olivier’s eye over the edge of her mug.

Olivier contemplated whether she should bite or let the statement be enough in itself. Ultimately, she decided to let it go. With the day’s affairs ahead—and Riza being particularly tense about Mustang—it seemed a wiser option to not draw their emotions out for a game. “Maybe it’s just because your heart is with Briggs now.”

Riza let out a soft laugh and a slight blush spread across her cheeks. “Maybe.”

* * *

In the hangar, Olivier gave a last recap of the plan for the exercise. The men sent up a rousing call in excitement. She turned to Riza, “You know your part?”

“Yes, sir.” Riza answered with a stiff smile.

Olivier nodded. “Get into position.”

The Briggs soldiers had taken their formations in the grounds outside the entrance. Olivier stood at the front of her men, resting her hands on the pommel of her sword. She surveyed East Command while impatiently waiting for the signal to begin. Based on their formations, she had correctly guessed at their plan of attack. Ordinarily, such an exercise would last at least an hour before East Command was spent and Briggs would be proclaimed the winner. But with Hawkeye on the wall, Olivier anticipated a victory within thirty minutes.

Riza set up on one of the armored platforms. She watched the soldiers of East Command, for the first time as an enemy would. Given her time with them, she had particular insights to their men and strategies.

A red flag waved over the field of play—the game was on.

Riza searched for Mustang on the field. In a real conflict, his flames would tear through the Briggs men and cause havoc in the fort. He would have to be eliminated first. Mustang stood at the back of a squad, gesturing and giving commands. Riza pressed the stock of her rifle against her cheek and pulled the trigger. Red paint splattered across Mustang’s chest. He faltered back, staggering from the impact as it took a second to register. Riza watched through the scope as he looked down to his chest, touching the bright red stain. He bowed his head and left the field.

Olivier heard Riza’s shot and watched to see her target. She grinned wickedly as Mustang reeled back, a splash of bright red across the left side of his chest. He relinquished his position to a subordinate and walked off. Riza’s first kill was Colonel Mustang. Olivier tried not to read heavily into it, but it felt too good not to indulge the feeling for a bit.

She watched as Hawkeye picked through their command, each shot removing one from the field. In a matter of minutes, she had cleared most of their ranking officers and removed the bulk of their leadership.

Olivier laughed; this was even easier with Riza on the wall.

* * *

It took twenty-five minutes for East Command to have their units picked apart and admit defeat to Briggs.

Riza came down from her sniper nest to hear the post-exercise briefing about failures and successes. That took decidedly longer than the exercise. Olivier had tried not to drape Riza with excessive praise, but they all knew what she had done to control the game. Dismissed, they went about their business for the afternoon.

Roy walked with Hawkeye through the fort. “Did you really have to take me out first?”

Riza barely shrugged. “Even in this environment, you would be the most dangerous alchemist on the battlefield.”

Mustang felt a little better with that admission, but it still stung bitterly to have been opposite Hawkeye for the first time. And for her to have taken him out of the exercise at the onset was disheartening.

They reached her quarters and he followed her in without invitation. Riza left the door open; she had no desire for Olivier to think she was hiding anything from her.

Roy sat in Olivier’s chair. “Come back to East Command.”

_‘Fuck. Are we really doing this?’_

Riza clenched her jaw. “No.”

She became painfully aware of all the signs of Olivier in her room. The tea cups and coffee mugs and whiskey glasses on the counter in pairs, Olivier’s gloves forgotten on the table in front of Roy, the smell of her lingering in the air. Would he even know it was her?

“You’re wasted here.” Mustang steamed ahead.

“I think today proves quite well that I am not.” Riza replied sternly.

“There’s a ceasefire with Drachma. They act tough every once in a while, but they aren’t foolish enough to move on Briggs.” He argued.

“How would I not be wasted in East Command?” Riza pinned him with her stare.

Mustang pursed his lips. “What about the mission? Did you forget about that?”

Riza stiffened. He just had to do this, he had to push it. Had to force her to tell him outright.

“I found another.”

Roy balled his fist. “Is it her? Are you going to help her become Fuhrer, now?”

Riza looked him dead in the eye. “She doesn’t need my help.” Riza didn’t mean for it to be a dagger, but she could see from the twitch in Roy’s eyes that he took it like one.

“You’re leaving my side for hers?” Mustang’s vitriol began to rise.

_‘Fuck you, Roy, for making me say this to your face.’_

“I found my place, Colonel.” Riza let the words sink in. “You don’t need me nearly as much as you think. Learn to trust and control yourself without relying on your subordinates, it’ll make you a better leader and more worthy of the position you covet.”

Roy’s face turned red, but he held his tongue. He stood stiffly and tugged at his shirt. “You know what I want and I won’t let anything get in my way. Not even the Ice Queen if it comes to it.”

Riza had come to hate that name. it reduced Olivier to the very least and most fearsome version of herself. Riza had seen the warmth in her and resented anything that implied it couldn’t exist. “I have no interest in preventing you from rising in the ranks. I just don’t think it’s my place to be by your side while you do it anymore.”

“You’re…happy here?” Roy’s voice was cold, but Riza knew him well enough to recognize it was a front to hide the sadness.

“Yes.” He didn’t deserve to know why.

Mustang gave a terse nod. “I hope you enjoy it, Hawkeye. Goodbye.” He quickly left the room before his anger got the better of him.

Olivier stood in the hall, her hand resting casually on the pommel of her sabre. “Mustang.” Her voice was like cold steel.

Riza moved to close the door. Hearing Olivier’s voice, she stopped with her hand on the knob.

Mustang looked at her and half a dozen barbs came to his mind, but he held his tongue. “Major General,” he saluted. Mustang gave a weak smile and then continued down the hallway to lick his wounds in private.

Olivier waited a beat before walking into Riza’s quarters.

Riza closed the door behind her with a heavy sigh. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Olivier sat in her chair.

Riza came and stood by Olivier, her nerves too on edge to sit. Her shoulders tightened as she gritted her teeth.

Olivier gently took her hand. “Riza.” Her voice carried a sweet softness.

Staring straight ahead, she laced her fingers with Olivier’s and took a slow breath. “I joined the military to protect Mustang. Maybe that was a foolish decision, but I found something that I am very good at, even though a part of me will always hate myself for it. So I’ll have to use my skills as best I can. To make a better world and help the people who need it.” She took an unsteady breath and gripped Olivier’s hand tighter. “I can’t tether myself to Mustang for the rest of my life. I can’t be responsible for my sins and his. I can’t live for his dreams. I have to follow my own path.” Riza squeezed Olivier’s hand.

She was quiet for a time. Olivier was content to wait her out, stroking the back of Riza’s hand for comfort. Her shoulders finally relaxed. “He won’t be back.”

“Honestly, I don’t care what he does as long as he doesn’t cause you any trouble.” Her tone was aggressive, but in a protective way. It was strangely comforting.

 _‘You mean as long as he doesn’t hurt me._ ’ Riza thought.

“You shouldn’t hate yourself, Riza. You did what was asked of you and you didn’t shy away from it. Not everyone was capable of doing what was necessary. There were soldiers in that fight who weren’t as strong or as brave as you. Look forward; don’t waste time worrying over the past.”

Riza looked down at her. There was something unspoken in Olivier’s eyes, but they were the kindest and warmest Riza had ever seen. She knew that it was a part of Olivier just for her. Riza smiled with her. “Forward.”

* * *

Briggs officers lined up in the bay to send off East Command. Riza stood off to Olivier’s side opposite Miles. A position once occupied by Buccaneer, who now stood behind Riza. It was a shift that had occurred without comment, but Miles and Buccaneer had noticed.

The last of East Command climbed into the trucks. General Grumman bid cordial farewells to General Armstrong and Hawkeye, congratulating both on an exceptional performance. He turned away to give a final check on the men and equipment returning south.

Olivier approached Mustang, her eyes like blue flames on him. “Did you learn anything during this exercise, Colonel?”

“Yes, sir. I did.” He glanced past her to Hawkeye. “I learned a lot. Mostly that I don’t know quite as much as I thought.”

Olivier curled her lip at him. “On that we can agree.”

He tugged his coat straight and squared his shoulders. “General Armstrong.” His eyes were still on Riza. “I hope that I can bring what I’ve learned back to East Command and improve my own performance and the men under me.”

“We can certainly hope.” Olivier gave him the coldest smile, disdain dripping from every word.

Riza watched the exchange silently, her attention on what she could see of Olivier’s face.

Utterly done with Mustang, Olivier turned to walk off. Riza made eye contact with her, asking for a moment with just a look. Olivier gave so subtle a nod that only Riza noticed.

Miles and Buccaneer followed on Olivier’s heels. Riza watched her go, but stayed with Mustang. She turned back to Roy.

“Thank you, Mustang.” Riza knew his compliment was genuine, but she felt a strange pity for him.

“We’ll miss you in East City.”

Riza gave him a small, sad smile. “You’ll do just fine, sir.”

“Colonel Mustang.” Grumman called.

Roy spun around. “Yes, sir.” He turned back to Hawkeye and spoke in a low voice, so that no one but them could hear. “Goodbye, Riza.”

Riza responded in kind. “Goodbye, Roy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter scene titles:  
> ~Miles calls Olivier on her shit  
> ~coffee talk 2 (Olivier apologizes)  
> ~coffee talk 3  
> ~Mustang Unit  
> ~Olivier Armstrong dramatic? NO  
> ~war games  
> ~Roy Mustang mantrum #2  
> ~goodbye royboy


	4. It's About Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added chapter titles because I finally thought of something for all of them. And I cleaned up the previous chapters cuz I realized there was a lot of stuff we missed.

Olivier stayed with Riza long after the tea was gone. They had moved on to harder libations, and a comfortable silence fell around them. Riza swirled her whiskey around the bottom of the glass before taking the last sip.

A long-standing curiosity finally got the better of Olivier. “Everyone at Briggs has a secret, a history that they’d rather stay buried, something they’re running from. It’s what leads most people up here to the farthest reaches of Amestris.” She looked at Riza and asked gently, “What’s yours?”

“I’m here because you asked me to be here.” Riza deflected.

Olivier made a small noise in her throat. “You came because I gave the order. We both know that if you’d have refused, your grandfather would have denied my request. You’re here because you choose to be.” Olivier poured them each another shot to try to take the bite out of the question. “So, Riza, what’s your secret?”

Riza lowered her gaze to the table and clenched her jaw. Olivier watched her eyes as something behind them fought wildly. It was the first time she’d seen Riza look…scared. Olivier suddenly felt guilty for asking, having clearly broached a topic Riza wasn’t ready to discuss.

Olivier started to rescind the question when she saw Riza’s eyes focus, her face resolute. Riza stood and began to pull up her shirt. For a moment Olivier’s mind utterly stopped. Riza pulled her hair over her shoulder and turned her back to Olivier, exposing her secret.

“Riza.” Olivier’s voice was soft, sorrowful. At first she didn’t even notice the tattoo, the large burn scars glaring starkly against Riza’s skin. She rose silently, and began to take in the whole picture of Riza’s back. Olivier reached her hand out to touch the scars; Riza started at the feeling of Olivier’s fingers against her skin. “What happened?” Olivier’s voice was low and heavy, thick with heartbreak.

Riza closed her eyes and leaned back into Olivier’s touch. “What do you know about my father?”

Olivier traced the scars with her fingertips, marveling at the pain Riza must have gone through. She ran her hands down Riza’s sides, resting them on her hips, drunk on the feeling of Riza in her arms.

“Nothing, I’m afraid.” She knew it meant that Riza would have to relive most of the tale in telling it to her.

Riza nervously placed her hands on Olivier’s, fearing she might pull away. Riza wanted her comfort for what came next.

“He was an alchemist. Roy was his apprentice.” Olivier’s hands stiffened, but didn’t move. “He was obsessed with flame alchemy.” Riza pressed back into Olivier, finding safety in her sturdy strength. “We weren’t close, but his fervor beguiled me. He convinced me of the value of flame alchemy to humanity. This is the acme of his work and the only copy of his notes.”

Olivier wrapped her arms around Riza’s waist. Riza turned in her embrace to press her face into Olivier’s neck. “He refused Roy the knowledge, but told him where he’d hidden it.” Riza took a deep breath. “I… I gave him my father’s work.” Riza wrapped her arms around Olivier, holding tightly. “Then there was the war in Ishval, and I saw what flame alchemy was truly capable of. The screaming, the smell, the twisted, blackened bodies of the Ishvalan people… it was too much. I asked Roy to destroy it.”

Olivier held her close, her hands against the wounds on Riza’s back.

“I begged him to burn it off me. I wanted it gone, erased from the world and the temptation of other alchemists. He did as much as he could until I blacked out from the pain.”

Riza was silent for a long time. She was content to remain in Olivier’s arms, breathing in the sweet scent at the crook of her neck. When she finally spoke, her voice was almost a whisper. “You’re the only one who knows.”

“Thank you, Riza, for trusting me.” Olivier gently leaned back, her hands sliding free of Riza’s body. She leaned back and Olivier saw the worry in Riza’s usually stoic eyes, but Riza was so far beyond rejection to Olivier. She cupped Riza’s face and kissed her.

It was soft and sweet, not like the fiery, consuming kiss in the heat of passion they’d shared before. This was gentle and slow and caring, building from the pit of her stomach, pouring into Riza. Filled with…Riza’s eyes shot open. Filled with love. Pure, deep, wonderfully possessive love. Riza pressed into Olivier and allowed herself to be overwhelmed by her touch.

Olivier had no idea how long they kissed, nor did she care. She had Riza in her arms and her lips on hers, with nothing between them now. Despite how much she wanted to ease Riza’s wounds by making slow, gentle love to her, tonight was not the time to press. Breathless, Olivier pulled back.

Riza pressed her forehead against Olivier’s, suddenly weary. “It’s late.”

“It is.” Olivier eased Riza’s shirt down over her back. “Can I ask how that didn’t make it into your medical file?”

Riza gave a tired chuckle as she leaned back. “Mustang is just terrible with paperwork.”

Olivier chuffed. At least he managed to do one thing right; she would have to thank him for it one day. She caught Riza’s fingers as they separated, holding on as they moved to the door.

“Good night, Olivier.” Riza kissed her cheek before she left. “I’ll see you in the morning?” Riza knew the answer, but exposing her deepest secrets left a worrisome pit in her stomach.

Olivier brushed her thumb against Riza’s cheek. “Of course, Riza.”

* * *

In the several weeks since Riza had shown Olivier her back, she had not skipped their morning coffee or evening tea once. Paying careful attention to Riza when they were together in private, keeping an eye to Riza’s emotions and offering whatever she needed. Even in the silences that manifested, Riza felt safe and at ease with Olivier.

It was during a stretch of warm silence over tea one evening that Riza found herself eying Olivier’s sabre laying at the edge of the table. Olivier was the only person, other than the Fuhrer, she had seen with a sword for anything other than ceremony. “Why do you carry a sword?”

Olivier looked over at the scabbard. “It’s a useful tool. I learned to fence as a child. When I mastered the rapier, I learned longsword. A sabre lends itself to both styles, after a fashion. Mine is a family heirloom.”

“May I see it?” Riza asked.

Olivier handed her the scabbard. It was both lighter and heavier than she expected it to be. Riza drew the sword a few inches. The lightly oiled steel glistened in the light. She pulled it free and set the scabbard on the table. It was remarkably balanced. Riza ran her fingers along the blade.

“Careful.” Olivier advised. “It’s sharp.”

“I thought sabres were blunt.” Riza looked at her, questioning.

“They are, compared to other blades. But I don’t fight on horseback, so it does me more good to have an edge on it.”

Riza looked over the sword. The fine filigree was worn down in places toward the end. The metal was dotted with knicks along the length; each with its own story to tell. “How many of these are yours?” Riza asked with a curious pride.

Olivier shrugged. “More than a few.”

Riza wondered what Olivier had seen during the Ishvalan war, fighting on the front lines. She had seen enough from her perch to not envy those in the fray. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. “It’s very beautiful.” Riza returned the sword to its scabbard and handed it back to Olivier.

“Thank you.” Olivier took the sword and set it down; out of the way, but to hand. “I could teach you how to use it if you want. Or something like it, if you’d prefer a lighter or shorter weapon.” Olivier offered.

Riza made a face. “Thank you, but no. It’s a bit too…close for me.”

Olivier accepted her answer. “If you ever change your mind, the offer stands.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s getting late, and you’ve got training in the morning.” Olivier stood, but lingered.

Riza came around the table. “I have training most mornings. On your orders.” She gave her a small smile.

Olivier slowly made her way toward the door, Riza by her side. Olivier cocked an eyebrow playfully. “Is there a problem with your orders, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir. Not at all.” Riza replied, her subtle smile spreading.

“Good. I’d hate to have to issue a mark for disobeying orders.” Olivier pressed against the door frame and looked at Riza. There was a delicious electricity between them that Olivier was loathe to leave. “You should get some rest.” She hesitated, suppressing the urge to touch her. “Good night, Riza.”

Riza leaned in and gave her a long, soft kiss. “Good night, Olivier.” She said, barely louder than a whisper.

Olivier looked at her; she could see the hint of what she hoped for in Riza’s eyes. It wasn’t quite right yet. She headed to her own quarters, reminding herself to be patient.

Alone for the evening, Riza changed into her night clothes. Riza’s mind settled on the memory of Olivier’s lips on hers. Her thoughts wandered, swirling about Olivier. The way the scent at the curve of her neck set off butterflies in her stomach. The trust she placed in Olivier, the way she felt safe in her presence. Riza had shared so much with Olivier that she’d held so tightly to herself, so easily and willingly. But she knew it had been right to let go, to give those things to her. She thought about what it was like to be with Olivier, the way it felt to be in her arms; like she was home. A broad smile spread across Riza’s face as she accepted the depths of her feelings for Olivier. As the comforting warmth filled her, she made her way through the halls of Fort Briggs to Olivier’s room.

Riza knocked on her door. “It’s Riza.” Nerves bit unneccessarily at her stomach.

Olivier quickly crossed to the door, concerned by the sharp tone of her voice. She’d just left Riza not long ago, what could have happened to upset her? Olivier opened the door. “What’s wrong?”

Riza rushed in. “Nothing.” She grabbed Olivier by the face and kissed her deeply. Olivier slammed the door shut and wrapped Riza in her arms.

Riza broke first, and looked up into Olivier’s eyes. “I love you.”

A cocky smile hung across Olivier’s lips; the missing piece had finally fallen into place. She held Riza around the waist. Her eyes shone brightly. “I love you too.”

Riza’s stomach dropped at the words. Olivier pressed in, kissing her slowly. Riza let her arms fall around Olivier’s waist, pulling her closer. She slipped her hands under Olivier’s shirt, indulging in the strong muscles of her back.

Olivier broke their kiss and Riza pulled Olivier’s shirt over her head. She looked at the other woman’s body and licked her lips. With an unsure hand, she pressed her palm to Olivier’s breast—her skin was hot to the touch and so soft. She kneaded gently, watching the pupils in Olivier’s bright eyes flare as her breath quickened. Riza, desperate for her lips, grabbed Olivier by the back of the neck and kissed her.

Olivier let Riza sate her hunger before pulling back to strip Riza’s shirt. She placed a hand on Riza’s breast and squeezed, her stomach tying in knots. A small moan escaped Riza’s throat. Skin to skin, Olivier dove in, kissing her deeply. One hand on her breast, she slid the other down the back of Riza’s pants. “I’ve thought about this for so long.”

Riza pulled Olivier against her, every inch of her body begging to be touched. “So have I. Since the day you put me on the mat.”

Olivier hooked the waistband of Riza’s pants with her thumb, pushing them down slightly. “Take them off.” It was a request masquerading as a command. Riza pulled them down as gracefully as she could.

Olivier grinned as she pushed into Riza, guiding her bodily toward the back wall. Olivier ran her hands down Riza’s ribs, over her hips, along the curve of her butt to the backs of her thighs. Riza’s naked body screamed in Olivier’s head, crying for all the things she wanted to do to her. “I recall that wasn’t the only time you thought about me.” She picked Riza up by the thighs and carried her across the room, shoving her back against the wall with her body. Riza gasped from the impact and swung her arm out to grab something to steady herself. Her hand hit something substantial, but she couldn’t find purchase. There was a vague sound of metal and glass against the floor, but her mind barely registered it.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Olivier comforted, a grin spreading across her face as she looked up at Riza.

Riza groaned, desire coursing through her. “I wanted you that night.” She wrapped her arms around Olivier’s neck.

“The things I wanted to do to you.” Olivier trailed off, biting her lip as she looked at Riza’s breasts.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you.” Riza admitted in a low voice.

Olivier looked up into her warm chestnut eyes. “I wanted it to mean something.” She confessed. “I wanted you to love me first.”

Riza cupped Olivier’s face. “Olivier, I love you.” Riza lowered her legs and Olivier let her slide comfortably down the wall to stand on her own. She looked up into Olivier’s sparkling blue eyes.

Olivier pressed her lips to Riza’s ear, tracing the edge with her tongue. Whispering in the deepest voice, she purred, “Are you mine now?”

Riza swallowed hard. “Yes, Olivier. I’m yours.”

Olivier snapped at her throat, her fingers digging into Riza’s skin. Riza cried out, overwhelmed by her lover’s touch. Olivier dragged her hands up the soft flesh of Riza’s thighs, pinning her in place at the pelvis. She ran her hand over Riza’s hip; Riza jerked in response, holding onto Olivier at her hip and around the back of her neck, fingers deep in her pale blonde hair. Olivier laughed low in her throat and hummed against Riza’s neck, running her thumb against the inner curve of her hip.

The low rumble that came from Olivier’s throat sent a shiver down Riza’s body. Olivier pressed her palm against Riza. She moaned, starving for Olivier’s touch. Olivier bucked her hips gently, teasing her. She dipped her fingers between Riza’s thighs, hissing at how desperately wet she was.

Riza cried out and pressed her body into Olivier, begging for more. Olivier kissed her as Riza’s hands groped at Olivier’s shoulders and neck. Olivier circled her fingers and Riza moaned into the kiss. She pressed her hips forward, pushing harder into Riza.

Riza begged for more, crying for Olivier’s touch as the older woman strung her out with soft touches. Subtle circles grazed her clit with gentle strokes, building up her already pressing need until she could barely stand it. Riza was nearly in tears from want. Olivier sank her teeth into Riza’s shoulder as she thrust inside her. Riza screamed out a sobbing swear, her entire body going weak for a moment.

She threw her head back, exposing her throat to Olivier, drowning in the feeling of Olivier’s fingers finally inside her. Olivier put her hips behind her hand, riding Riza into the wall. She kept a steady pace, nipping and gnashing at Riza’s skin.

Olivier dug her nails into Riza’s thigh and yanked the leg up over her hip, her fingers slipping deeper into Riza. She sobbed as Olivier took her weight and thrust her hips harder, curling deep inside Riza. Her thighs shook against Olivier’s body and Riza clawed at her back, dragging her nails down her neck and the broad yoke of her shoulders, clinging to Olivier like a lifeline.

Olivier pulled her teeth from Riza’s neck and leaned back to stare into her deep brown eyes, nearly black with desire. “Come for me, Riza.” She growled.

Riza choked on a moan as Olivier doubled her efforts. She held her eyes until Riza threw her head back in orgasm, screaming as she carved deep red lines into Olivier’s back.

Riza’s legs felt like heavy, numb weights. Olivier held her, still inside her, until the grip around her fingers relaxed. Carefully, she pulled free from Riza and slowly let her leg down. Riza panted against the wall, holding onto Olivier as tightly as she could. She watched Riza’s chest rise and fall with a smug smile.

Riza hung her arms over Olivier’s shoulders and just stared at her, taking her in. Exhausted and finally free, she absorbed every bit of that gorgeous face and the self-satisfied grin, the way her breasts subtly pressed against her own with every inhale, the pressure of Olivier’s hips against her. Catching her breath, Riza pulled her in for a kiss.

Olivier picked her up by the thighs and carried her to the bed, setting her down on the edge. Riza pulled Olivier close, kissing her stomach. She slid her hands under Olivier’s waistband and slowly pushed her shorts down, her fingertips trailing against her skin. Olivier swallowed as a shudder ran through her body.

Riza gently pulled Olivier on top of her as she leaned back on the mattress. Olivier climbed up her body, kissing her deeply. Riza ran her hands over Olivier’s naked body, every muscle taut and burning hot. Olivier dipped her hips, pressing herself against Riza who gasped, digging her nails into Olivier’s ass.

Olivier lifted up enough for Riza to settle properly into the queen-sized bed. She shifted with every motion to keep her body just above Riza. When Riza stilled, Olivier eased the weight of her body into every curve of Riza’s with a slow, deep kiss. Riza carefully hooked her leg around Olivier’s. Then gripping tight around her hips, she rolled Olivier onto her back. Riza smiled down at her with dark eyes and a sly expression. She kissed Olivier’s lips softly but pulled back, leaving Olivier wanting. Riza kissed her throat, then the dip in her collarbone. She hovered over Olivier’s breasts, watching the look in her eyes as she lowered her mouth to Olivier’s nipple. She barely grazed her lips against the soft, pink skin and Olivier arched her back, pressing Riza’s body down between her shoulders. Riza took the sensitive flesh between her teeth, fluttering her tongue against it.

The sound of Olivier moaning rattled in her ears, enveloping her senses. She teased one nipple with her mouth, and traced circles with her fingers around the other. Olivier’s body roiled beneath her, a hand buried in Riza’s hair, pressing her mouth against her breast, pleading for the feeling of her tongue against her flesh. Riza sucked her nipple as she pulled back until it slipped from her lips; Olivier gasped. Olivier looked at her with fire in her eyes, almost upset that she’d pulled away. Riza slid lower, touching her lips to the dip in Olivier’s ribs above her stomach. She traced her tongue down the furrow of Olivier’s abs and chuckled low in her throat as the muscles flexed. Riza ran her hands down Olivier’s thighs, kissing lower and lower down her stomach. She stopped just above the apex of Olivier’s thighs. With a smirk and a burning in her eyes, Riza circled her fingertips across the top of Olivier’s legs and gently pushed them apart.

She placed a kiss against the soft, pale skin on either side. Olivier could barely keep herself still, silently pleading for Riza’s touch. Riza pressed her lips against Olivier, waiting a beat before flicking the tip of her tongue against her. Olivier bucked slightly and her grip in Riza’s hair tightened. She tasted salty sweet and good, so good—Riza pressed into her, tracing gentle circles around Olivier’s clit. She moaned deep and loud and Riza lost herself in the sound and the feel and the taste of Olivier.

She played her tongue in patterns and pressures until she discovered what her lover liked best. Olivier gripped at the sheets, trying not to jerk her hips too hard. She pulled Riza against her, begging for more of her mouth. “Riza, please.”

Olivier’s grip in her hair tightened and pushed her closer with each stroke. Riza lifted Olivier’s thigh over her shoulder and fluttered her tongue against her. The tension in Olivier’s thighs grew, but she wouldn’t come. Riza stroked her tongue in slow, broad waves. Olivier whimpered. Riza held the pattern as Olivier’s thigh trembled more and more against her cheek.

Her body tightened and she cried out as she came. Olivier held Riza against her, Riza’s tongue riding the spasms of her orgasm. Olivier’s body calmed and Riza moved up to lay against her.

Olivier indulged in the feeling of Riza against her, but she wanted more—needed more. “Riza.” She said softly.

Riza kissed her shoulder. “Yes, Olivier?”

“I need you inside me.”

Riza growled with pleasure, “I can absolutely fill that need.” Olivier caught the smirk on her face and the glint of mischief in her eye. Riza settled on her elbow beside Olivier, one leg draped between her. She touched Olivier’s cheek and kissed her. Softly at first; deeper as her passion grew.

The taste of herself on Riza’s lips sent a jolt through Olivier’s gut. They were so soft and warm and she never wanted to stop kissing them.

Riza traced her finger along Olivier’s throat, down her chest. She squeezed Olivier’s breast, reveling at how it felt in her hand. She paused, circling her thumb around the nipple as she gently worked her hand. Leaving her nipple hard and wanting, Riza drifted her fingers over Olivier’s ribs and hip, down between her thighs. Riza smiled as she felt the wet heat between her legs. Olivier arched into her touch and Riza slid inside her.

“Yes,” Olivier groaned.

Riza worked her fingers in and out slowly, swearing under her breath at the feeling of being deep inside Olivier. She moved over and onto Olivier’s body, squaring her hips up behind her hand. Olivier nodded and licked her lips, staring up at Riza with a desperate ferocity, as Riza put her hips behind each thrust. Olivier dug her nails into Riza’s hips, pulling down as she drove her fingers inside her. Riza rode her, shaking the bed with the effort.

Olivier wrapped her legs around Riza’s waist and her fingers slid so much deeper into her. She pulled Riza down to kiss her, needing to be connected in every way. She tugged at Riza’s hair to pull her lips free. “Harder,” she said against Riza’s throat. Olivier growled and nipped gently at Riza’s neck. She pressed Riza’s face into the meat of her trap muscle; Riza bit down as she slammed her hips behind her hand, thrusting deep and hard inside Olivier.

Olivier screamed, balling her fist in Riza’s hair, pressing her mouth into her skin. Riza rode Olivier hard and fast, digging her teeth into the muscle of her shoulder until she came, squeezing tight around Riza before relaxing bodily back onto the mattress.

Riza carefully started to pull out of her but Olivier clenched tight around her hand, not wanting her to leave yet. Riza laid beside her, resting her head against Olivier’s shoulder and Olivier wrapped Riza in her arms, holding her close. Riza placed a hand on Olivier’s heart, feeling the thundering beat slow as she came down.

Olivier put her hand against Riza’s shoulder and pushed her onto her back. Riza looked up at her, the look in Olivier’s eyes telegraphing her intentions. She draped her body over Riza’s, tracing her fingertips up and down her ribs. Riza put her hand to Olivier’s cheek. Olivier leaned in to kiss her, deep and slow. Riza tightened her arm around Olivier’s body, holding tight, pressing against her skin.

Olivier slowly pulled back and moved her lips to Riza’s breast. She placed soft kisses around Riza’s nipple, humming with pleasure as it hardened under her breath. Olivier ran her fingers down Riza’s stomach, over her hip, the inside of her thigh. Riza spread her legs slightly, inviting her touch. Olivier took Riza’s nipple in her mouth, sucking gently as she slid her fingers down Riza’s clit. Playing her tongue against Riza, she made gentle strokes with her fingers dipping lower and lower, indulging in the wetness she drew from her. Riza slowly rolled her hips in rhythm with Olivier’s fingers. Olivier hummed against Riza’s nipple and started circling her tongue, matching her fingers to the pattern. Riza moaned softly, her head lolling back.

Olivier fluttered her tongue against Riza’s nipple, mimicking the motion with her fingers on her clit, building her to climax until Riza called out Olivier’s name as she came.

Olivier closed her eyes, replaying the sound of Riza’s voice in her mind. If there was only a single thing she could hear for the rest of her life, she wanted it to be the sound of Riza calling out her name at the peak of passion. Olivier laid down beside Riza, just looking at her. Allowing herself the opportunity to accept that this was no longer fantasy. She watched Riza’s chest rise and fall as she fought to catch her breath, tracing every curve and muscle with her eyes, memorizing the shape of her body.

Riza’s breathing finally slowed and settled into a steady pace. Olivier put her hand on Riza’s stomach. Riza smiled and fell away into sleep with the heat of Olivier’s body wrapped around her.

* * *

It wasn’t unusual for General Armstrong to skip breakfast, so no one noticed her absence. But when the buzz of ‘where was the Major General’ quickly started to circle, Major Miles began to worry. What catastrophic emergency had kept Armstrong from her command?

Maintaining a semblance of order, he first went to his own office. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing to indicate anything was amiss. He went to the General’s office, hoping that maybe she’d left a note or a file. Not hoping for any worse possibilities that he declined to entertain. Miles was carefully looking over her desk when two privates passed in the hall.

“Has anyone seen Lieutenant Hawkeye? She’s supposed to be heading riflery training, but no one’s seen her.” One asked.

“I haven’t heard anything.” The other responded.

Miles stopped searching the desk, fighting back a smile. He came around and closed the door before breaking into laughter.

Composing himself, he left Armstrong’s office and made his way to her quarters. He passed Buccaneer in the hall. An idea occurred to him. “Captain?”

“Yes?” Buccaneer stopped.

“Call an all hands inspection.” Miles smiled, that ought to keep the halls clear.

“Yes, sir, Major.”

Miles stopped at Armstrong’s door. He cleared his throat and knocked. “Lieutenant Hawkeye, you’re needed at the range.”

Riza started awake. “All right. I’m on my way.” She was late for training, Olivier would have her ass.

Olivier.

Riza became suddenly and starkly aware of the naked woman her arm was draped across. And the glaring fact that she was not in her own quarters.

Olivier woke at the sound Riza’s voice and sat up almost immediately.

Riza stared at Olivier’s body and licked her lips. Pushing back a wave of desire, she cleared her throat. “Major Miles is at the door. He asked for me.”

“What fucking time is it?” Olivier barked.

Riza finally realized what that far off sound of glass and metal had been the night before. She pointed to the broken clock on the floor.

Miles yelled through the door, “Seven nineteen, sir.”

“Fuck.” Olivier jumped out of bed and dressed as quickly as she could.

Riza reached for her clothes. All she had were pajamas. Her uniforms were in her own quarters; a long walk through the halls away. She stalked up to the door. “Is there anyone in the hall?”

“I had Captain Buccaneer call an inspection. The halls should be all clear, Lieutenant.”

Riza ran back and took a half-dressed Olivier in her arms and kissed her passionately. A heat pulled between Olivier’s thighs and raced over her, consuming her. Riza pulled back, biting Olivier’s lower lip. “I’ll see you this evening?” Riza asked, the vaguest hint of vulnerability creeping in at the edges of her voice.

Olivier’s cheeks were dusky red and her eyes burned with desire. “Always.”

Riza stepped into the hallway, leaning back against the door behind her. She smiled sheepishly at Miles. He noticed the purple and red marks across her throat and smirked back at her, but said nothing. “Does anyone else know?” Riza asked, a deepening red spreading across her face.

“No.” Miles assured her.

Hawkeye’s shoulders visibly relaxed. She wanted nothing more than to be out of this hallway and away from whatever conversation Olivier and Miles would have. She left as quickly as possible.

Miles waited in the hall for General Armstrong.

Not long behind Riza, she stormed into the hall, slamming the door behind her. Barely glancing at Miles, she snapped. “Not a fucking word, Major.”

Miles made a small sound of affirmation and followed after Olivier’s quick pace.

* * *

Miles’ cover of a surprise inspection had satisfied the men for the women’s absences in the morning. Thankfully, there had been no issues with the inspection, aside from a few of the men needing to clean their guns better. To Riza, the day had passed too slowly. But it was finally done.

She retreated to her room. Ordinarily, she’d make tea for herself and Olivier. She smiled broadly, things were a bit past that now. Riza grabbed the clock off her nightstand and made for Olivier’s quarters. She knocked, hoping it wasn’t too early for her to have retired for the day.

Olivier opened the door. She was still wearing her uniform, but the buttons were undone. Her face noticeably softened at seeing Riza. “Riza,” she greeted with a smile. “Come in.”

Riza saw she still hadn’t had time to clean up the clock pieces from the night before. She blushed, remembering how it had been broken. “I brought my clock to replace yours.” Riza held up the small timepiece. “I won’t be needing it in my quarters any longer?” Her voice was unsure, but hopeful.

Olivier walked over and slid a hand around the back of her neck, lifting Riza’s lips to meet her own. She took the clock from Riza’s hand and placed it on a table within reach. Wrapping her arms around Riza, she held her close. “You won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scene notes/titles:  
> ~Riza's secret  
> ~sword talk  
> ~climax ;)  
> ~sleeping in
> 
> The original concept for this fic was the almost scene at the end of chapter 2 leading into the climactic(heh) scene in this chapter. Then I had to give it substance, how they got there. And then just...here we are. More and more is getting fleshed out and I love it.


	5. Rules of Engagement

Riza pulled on a night shirt and stretched her neck, trying to loosen the muscles. She reached up and rubbed the base of her neck and into her shoulders.

Olivier sat on the bed watching Riza change. “Let me?” She offered.

They had only been together a few months, and Riza was still adjusting to the idea that she had someone. “Thank you.”

She gave Olivier a soft kiss before sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. “I’ve had a headache most of the day that I can’t seem to shake.”

Olivier began working on Riza’s shoulders, the muscles were indeed quite tight. “Are you drinking enough? The extreme weather here seems to discourage proper drinking. Dehydration headaches are common.”

Riza groaned as Olivier pressed her thumbs into her muscles. “I think it’s just work stress. But it’s nice to not have to hound anyone about doing their paperwork.” She added jokingly.

Olivier dug in a little harder and Riza grunted at the uncomfortable relief.

“Everyone _here_ does their jobs.” Her voice had an edge on it now.

Riza sighed. She did not have the drive for this tonight. “Mustang isn’t that bad.” She rebutted.

“He’s a philandering brat who shirks his work.” Olivier snapped.

Riza pushed Olivier’s hands away and turned to look at her. “All his flirtations, his little black book—it’s not real. It’s just a cover.”

Olivier sneered. “That’s even worse. Cultivating an image based on lies and deceit, that’s the coward’s way. He wants all of the power of position, but none of the responsibility. Some of us worked damned hard for our rank.”

Riza was frustrated with her stubbornness. “He’s not like that, Olivier. He only wants to be Fűhrer to protect the people he cares about and to attempt to atone for the things we did in Ishval.”

“That’s a fool’s errand.” Olivier scoffed. “What was done, was done. You can’t erase your actions by climbing the ranks. I would know.” She was visibly angry. “You don’t need position to protect the people you love, just strength and determination. He’s selfish and power hungry and he’s lying about why he wants it.”

Riza stood up, putting distance between them. She was losing her patience. “You’re not striving for Fűhrer out of selfish reasons, General Armstrong?” She bit back.

Olivier jumped to her feet. “If I were selfish, I’d be sitting on my ass in my mansion ordering my servants around while I fucked whatever woman I wanted whenever the fancy struck. Instead, I joined the military to risk my life to protect the people of Amestris, and I have done it so well that they pinned two medals on my chest and made me a Major General, Lieutenant!” An electric silence hummed around them. “You’re not the only one with scars from the war.”

Olivier knew it was a mistake as soon as it came out of her mouth. This entire argument had been a mistake, but that comment was beyond the pale.

Riza’s face went cold and still. Her eyes darkened and her jaw muscles flexed as she ground her teeth. “Good night, _General_.” She slammed the door behind her as she left, the sound echoing in her wake.

Twice now Olivier had run Riza out with a reckless loss of control. She sat on the edge of the bed, her body shaking with rage. Angry at Mustang, at Riza, but mostly at herself. She balled up her fist, ignoring the nails digging into her palm. Her entire life had been about self-control, about learning to hold back the violent anger within to keep the people around her safe from harm. She cared more about Riza than anyone, so why was she the one thing that made Olivier forget herself?

She tried to hold back the tears, but as the anger faded, so did her energy. Feeling utterly spent and disgusted with herself, Olivier held her head in her hands and cried.

_‘If you fuck this up, I will never forgive you.’_

* * *

Riza slept horribly, spending the night tossing and unable to catch anything resembling fitful rest. Her head still hurt. Her heart hurt. She was already accustomed to having someone next to her in bed; sleeping alone suddenly felt awful. Finding herself awake and restless early in the morning, she gave up and dressed. She grabbed her handbag and made her way down to the entrance hangar to see about setting out.

Miles was likewise already awake and at work. “You’re down here early,” he said when he saw Riza.

She gave him a tired look. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d just head out now, if it’s possible.”

“I don’t see why not.” Miles was definitely not going to pry. He whistled at a soldier fueling trucks across the hangar. The young man looked up and ran over at Miles’ behest.

“Specialist, take that truck and drive Lieutenant Hawkeye into town for the train.”

“Yes, sir. Am I to wait for resupply?” The specialist asked.

“Negative. Just drop her off and return; there is nothing incoming.”

“Understood, sir.” He turned to Riza. “On your order.”

Riza sighed. “Let’s go.”

Riza waited on the platform for the train. The chill air was oddly comforting, but she kept herself awake; there would be plenty of time to sleep on the train ride to East City.

The train pulled up and she boarded, its sole passenger embarking from North City. She settled in by the window. The seat next to her was empty, at least until they passed through Central. Riza leaned back against the head rest; she would take some rest while she could.

The whistle blew as they approached Central station, rousing Riza from her slumber. An hour’s nap wasn’t much, but it had been sorely needed, and put her in better spirits. Her heart still missed Olivier though, and her thoughts followed after. Riza knew Olivier hadn’t been making a pointed comment about her back and the deeper wounds attached to it; she knew Olivier would never use that against her. In the moment, though, she hadn’t trusted that knowledge. Her own actions had been a bit overwrought, which she lamented. But it should never have come to that.

How did a flippant joke about Mustang erupt into a fight? It was something that would need to be addressed. Currently, she just wanted to move past it and return to their usual intimacy. She loved Olivier, and easily forgave her, but they would have to work on her temper. Ultimately, Riza knew there weren’t many transgressions she wouldn’t forgive Olivier for. And those few things Riza wouldn’t, she knew Olivier would never commit. Riza sorely regretted leaving without seeing her first.

* * *

Olivier woke gruffly, still angry and exhausted, painfully aware of the empty space in the bed. It was the first night they had slept apart since admitting their feelings. Olivier insisted she was fine, but it hurt more than she was willing to admit—even to herself.

In an effort to ignore the disappointment sitting heavy in her chest, Olivier locked herself in her office and buried herself in paperwork. It had not been that long ago that being alone had been her preferred state. Now it felt hollow and bitter.

Guilt made her feel a childish sense of sheepishness; she knew that what she’d said had crossed the line. Putting off apologizing meant there was no risk of Riza refusing it. But it also lengthened the distance between them, which was growing increasingly unbearable. She weighed her own stubbornness against the shame and loneliness. The desire to tend Riza’s wounds won out; she would not make the same mistake twice. Olivier became utterly incensed with herself. She dropped the pen in her hand onto the desk and rubbed her face. “This is ridiculous. You are being an ignominious cad, hiding away from her like a child. Go talk to her.”

Olivier stood with a heavy sigh, beginning the mental preparations to admit her egregious mistake and apologize. She opened her office door. “Miles, please call Lieutenant Hawkeye to my office immediately.”

“Sir, she left for East City this morning.” Miles said flatly.

Olivier clenched her jaw and walked back into her office without a word. She took a long, slow breath.

Riza had left.

She had gone back to East Command.

Olivier felt an overwhelmingly oppressive wave of remorse infused with self-loathing. _‘She left because of what I said. I keep running her off and she left.’_ An exceptional sense of panic began to eat at Olivier’s stomach. She let out another breath, balling her fist at her side. What was Riza worth to her? Was she worth making a fool of herself? Was she worth showing weakness to her rival, worth asking Mustang for his help?

Truthfully, she didn’t even need to think about it: Riza was worth everything to her.

Olivier came out of her office and calmly told Miles, “I’m taking the day. You’re in charge, Major.”

He inclined his head slightly, “Yes, sir.” His stoic expression remained until she was clear of the doorway. He smiled to himself. It was quite enjoyable to see her so thoroughly spent for Hawkeye.

Olivier went to her quarters to change; it wouldn’t do to walk around East City on personal business in her uniform. She slipped into a pair of charcoal grey slacks and an aubergine tailored button up. She went down to the hangar and grabbed the first soldier she saw. “Specialist, I need you to bring me to the station in North City.”

“Yes, sir, General.” He took the keys for the nearest truck. “Will I be waiting for resupply, sir?”

“No.” Olivier answered. “I have personal business to attend. Just take me to the station and return.”

“Yes, sir.” He started the rumbling engine of the cargo truck. A couple men scrambled to open the bay door, and they drove out into the empty land between Briggs and the city.

They cut through the terrain as fast as the spring melt allowed. When they arrived at the train station, Olivier disembarked.

“Take care, sir.” The specialist said.

“You do the same.” Olivier dismissed him. He saluted and drove off back toward Briggs.

Olivier paid for a private room on the next train. There wasn’t much in the north other than the fort, so trains were not as frequent as in the other cities. It meant she would have to wait, and rather impatiently at that. She paced around the boarding area of the platform until the train arrived.

She took her room and locked the door, giving her the privacy to think. She felt a tad foolish. Here she was, a general of substantial age, taking off to chase after her young girlfriend to ask her not to leave. Alex would be beside himself. As ridiculous as she felt, she knew unequivocally that Riza was the right choice. The only choice.

Olivier leaned her head back against the seat, watching the trees of the southern forest of North Area fly past. She focused her mind on how she would apologize and what she would say to get Riza to come back.

* * *

Rebecca met Riza at the station with an exuberant hug. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been so long.”

Riza hugged her back. “I’ve missed you too, Rebecca. Happy birthday!”

Rebecca released her. “Thank you. And thank you for coming to see me today; it means a lot.”

Riza smiled back. “Of course.”

Rebecca hooked arms with Riza as they walked across the station hall and out onto the street. “Do you need to stop by your place for anything? I promise I’ve been keeping a good eye on it.”

“Thank you for that.” Riza said. “I don’t need anything though.”

“Good.” Rebecca beamed. “More time for shopping.”

Riza smiled again—Rebecca’s enthusiasm had always been contagious. “I will probably need to let go of the place soon.” She added.

“Oh?” Rebecca was saddened, but intrigued. “Briggs is permanent?”

Riza’s smile widened, a deep warmth lighting up her eyes. “Yes. I think so.”

“Well, it may not be a promotion in rank, but it certainly is in reputation. Congratulations on being a notorious ‘Briggs soldier.’”

Riza’s focus was split between shopping for herself, engaging with Rebecca in her retail escapades, and looking for a gift for Olivier to show her forgiveness. In the grand scheme of things—and possibly by Olivier’s own reckoning—they had not been together long, but Riza had already learned that for Olivier actions meant far more than words. So, while telling her she was forgiven was necessary, showing her she was still deeply loved would matter more.

Though Rebecca said nothing, she had definitely noticed Riza’s attention to things she’d previously had little interest in. Not that Riza didn’t appreciate fine whiskeys or hand-forged blades, but she’d never spent a single cen on such things; and therefore, the entire venture was highly suspect.

Riza was obviously shopping for someone else.

Someone she met at Briggs. Rebecca would get it out of her at lunch.

Riza stepped into a stationery shop, hoping to find Olivier a fine pen or something else useful, but elegant. She looked through the display cases. There was a myriad of beautiful and exquisite fountain pens, the prices increasing the farther along she went. Narrowing down to just one would be a daunting task. She decided to let that decision sit and come back to it. Riza browsed through the selection of writing accoutrement. The shop had everything you could need: elaborately ornamented paper and envelopes, letter openers, sealing wax, even generic signet rings. And tasteful desk sets not only for display, but to keep everything at hand.

Riza’s eyes settled on an olive wood desk set with a brass hawk on top. She grinned—it was perfect. There was a glass inkwell with a brass flip top on the left, and an arm to hold a pen on the right. It had two drawers; a short, deep one with sealing wax candles and a removable metal seal on a handle, and a long, shallow drawer for paper. A carved tray in front held a letter opener of mirrored steel with a polished brass hawk’s head for a handle.

Riza brought it to the counter immediately. The shopkeeper wrapped it up carefully in a box and secured it with brown packing paper. She chose a pen to go with it, made of zebrawood dyed blue with gold accents. They didn’t have ink made for the low temperatures of Briggs, but that was fairly easy to acquisition from the military.

Rebecca was waiting outside the store for Riza. “Are you ready for lunch yet?”

“Yes. Lunch sounds great. Where would you like to go? My treat.” Riza smiled at her.

“Are you sure?” Rebecca asked.

“It’s your birthday.” Riza stated matter-of-factly.

“You spoil me.” Rebecca perked up. “Well, there’s this new bistro café I’ve been wanting to try. It’s heavily Aerugon influenced.”

“That does sound good. Let’s try it.”

* * *

Olivier stepped out of the East City train station. Thankfully, a handful of cabs were parked along the curb waiting for passengers. She opened the door of the nearest one. “East Command?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The driver answered cordially. He was a younger man, about Riza’s age, with dusty blonde hair and a warm smile.

Olivier got into the back and the driver pulled off. He was blessedly able to read her body language and avoided undue conversation.

Within a few minutes, he pulled up to the gate of East Command Headquarters. “Here we are, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Olivier paid the fair and gave the driver a little extra for having stayed quiet. He gave a half-hearted salute as a thank you and drove away.

The MP guard at the gate let out a confused sigh at what he thought was a civilian approaching the gate. He stepped forward to deal with her. “Can I help you, ma’am?” He asked in a deep voice.

Olivier came close enough for the guard to see her face well, her eyes passing over the unadorned black shoulder mark. He slowly moved his hand to his sidearm. Olivier answered his question with an impatient tone, “General Armstrong, private. Here to speak with Colonel Mustang.” Olivier stopped and waited, watching as the guard’s eyes went wide with recognition.

His hand flew from his pistol into a salute. “Oh! Sorry, sir. I didn’t realize. Out of uniform.” He stumbled over his words. “Would you like me to let him know you’re here?”

Olivier moved up. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Yes, sir.” He opened the gate to let her through. “Have a good day, sir.”

She gave a small chuckle, one that evoked the image of a predator amused with its prey. It had been a while since anyone had been so obviously afraid of her. “You as well, private.”

Olivier made her way through headquarters amid a stir of unsuccessfully surreptitious whispers. Once upon a time, she’d have take the opportunity to verbally eviscerate all of them. But currently, she had more important things on her mind.

The door to Mustang’s office was open, so Olivier entered with a stentorian greeting. “Mustang!”

Roy nearly fell from his seat with a jump. “General Armstrong.” He said in a high voice. He cleared his throat and continued in his usual deep tone. “What could you possibly be here for?”

Olivier was already irritated with him. “I need to speak with Lieutenant Hawkeye.”

Roy smirked in that arrogant way of his. “She is no longer under _my_ command, why would _I_ know where she is?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Mustang. I know she’s in East City and if anyone knows where she is, it’s probably you.” She kept her patience—for Riza.

Roy leaned back in his chair, relishing this moment where he had something Olivier Armstrong needed. “She’s on leave, you’re really going to invade her private time for your work? What could be so important?”

“I know your observational skills are a bit slow, but it should be rather obvious that I am also off duty. It’s Briggs business.” It wasn’t a lie. Not that she would have cared about lying to Mustang, but she felt as though lying to him might upset Riza.

Roy smirked again. “All work and no fun, Armstrong.”

She had plenty of fun with Riza. The thought produced a wicked grin that unsettled Mustang, who mistook its intention. He was on such thin ice, Olivier could hear it cracking. “I’m a task master bitch, what can I say?” He had no comeback, so Olivier pressed on. “Just tell me where she is, Mustang, and I will be out of your ridiculously unkempt hair. Don’t make me pull rank on you.”

Roy pursed his lips, the smirk obliterated. She’d outmaneuvered him and the game was no longer fun. “Honestly. I don’t know where she is. Lieutenant Catalina has been talking for weeks about them going shopping and out to eat for her birthday.”

Olivier’s countenance remained impassive as she began to realize she had over-thought.

Mustang continued, “If they’ve stopped for lunch, then they’re probably at Rebecca’s favorite restaurant: Silver Spark Grill. If she’s not there, check the new place that opened nearby, The Copper Flower. She’s been going on about wanting to try it for days. That is literally all I can give you.”

Olivier smiled politely at him. “Thank you, Colonel.”

* * *

“It’s such a beautiful day, why don’t we get a table outside?” Rebecca asked.

“Sure.” Riza was honestly glad for the opportunity to be in warm sunlight without the biting cold.

They took a table just off the sidewalk. A young man came out to hand them menus and ask their drink order. They looked over the menu while the waiter got their drinks.

“Everything sounds so good.” Rebecca drooled.

“It does. Do you have anything in mind?” Riza glanced up at her.

“I keep hearing that their rosemary sweet potato gnocchi dish is to die for. I cannot wait to try it for myself.”

“That does sound good.” Riza scanned over the menu. “Oh, I know what I’m getting,” she said when her eyes settled on a particular item.

The waiter came back with their drinks. “Are you ready to order? Or do you need a few more minutes?”

Riza looked to Rebecca. “Are you good?” She nodded. Riza started. “I’ll have the gyros.”

The waiter looked to Rebecca. “I’ll have the sweet potato gnocchi.”

“Excellent choice. It is our signature dish. Will that be all, ladies?” He asked.

“For now.” Riza answered. Depending on how the conversation went, she might need a stiff drink.

* * *

Olivier walked a few blocks away from East Command and the mildly traumatized gate guard. She had to clear her head before hailing a cab. It was now obvious that Riza had not, in fact, left because of their fight. If she had let go of her fear, Olivier would have known that Riza leaving her that way without saying anything was not in her character. But Olivier was here and there were still things that needed to be said.

She hailed a cab and had the driver drop her at the Silver Spark Grill. Peering through the windows, she didn’t see Riza. There was a dark-haired woman sitting alone who seemed to be waiting for someone. Olivier watched until she saw a man come from the bathroom and join her.

Hopefully they would be at the other restaurant Mustang had mentioned. Otherwise, Olivier would be back at zero, and she was not going back to Mustang. She took off on foot, re-evaluating her planned apology script.

* * *

“What’s it like working for General Armstrong?” Rebecca leaned over the table and lowered her voice. “Is she as awful as people say?”

Riza scowled. “Not at all. Her standards are high, but it’s only because she expects the absolute best from everyone and few people live up to that on their own.”

Riza’s expression softened. “She’s an amazing woman and an incredible leader. She’s deeply caring. She’s passionate, she’s patient—when she wants to be. She’s willing to do anything for her men.” Riza had been so focused on her thoughts that—for once— she didn’t notice Rebecca’s gaze slide over her shoulder as her face pinched in confusion. “She’s…” Riza inhaled, the instinctual steadying breath before pulling the trigger. “She’s—”

“She’s coming this way.” Rebecca cut her off.

Riza spun round to see Olivier walking toward them. “Excuse me,” she spat out as she jumped up from her seat. She intercepted Olivier purposefully out of Rebecca’s earshot. “Olivier, what are you doing here?” Riza wasn’t angry, but seeing Olivier left her confused and concerned.

“I came to apologize for what I said last night. It was inappropriate and I crossed the line. Riza, I’m sorry.”

Riza gave her the sweetest look. “You came all the way out here just to apologize?”

Olivier looked ever-so-slightly embarrassed. “I thought you had left. I have never been afraid of anything, but Riza, I was terrified of losing you.”

Riza put a hand to Olivier’s cheek. “Olivier, I was coming home. I had put in leave for Rebecca’s birthday months ago.”

“I discovered that when I spoke to Mustang.” Olivier admitted.

Riza’s brow furrowed slightly. “You spoke to Mustang?”

“It was the only way I could think to find out where you were.”

Riza smiled. “I forgive you.” She leaned in and brushed her lips across Olivier’s. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Olivier put her hands on Riza’s hips, drinking in the gentle smile and the warmth of her eyes. “Okay.” She nodded, accepting Riza’s terms. “Am I interrupting your day? Would you like me to go?”

“No.” Riza stroked Olivier’s cheek. “Stay please.” Her face brightened. “You can spend some time with Rebecca and me.” Riza sighed, remembering Rebecca sitting at the table behind them. “Is she watching us?”

“Has been the whole time.” Olivier fought back a smile.

“I was just about to tell her about us. I guess this is one way to do it.”

Olivier shifted her attention without moving her eyes. “I believe she approves.”

Riza looked back over her shoulder to see Rebecca with her hands folded together under her chin and the largest grin Riza had ever seen her sport. She turned back to Olivier. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet, no.”

“We were finishing, but I doubt very much that Rebecca will mind taking the time for you to get some lunch.” Riza took Olivier’s hand, lacing their fingers as they returned to the table.

“So, Riza. Enjoying your time at Briggs?” Rebecca radiated hysterical joy.

“The weather is awful and the coffee is shit. But the company is pretty nice.” Riza smiled at Olivier. “I’ve got no complaints.”

Rebecca relaxed in her seat, but her enthusiasm for this new development didn’t fade. “This must be who you have been shopping for all morning.” She grinned.

“Rebecca.” Riza fussed.

Olivier side-eyed Riza. “Is that so?”

Rebecca answered before Riza could say anything. “Oh yes. I knew she wasn’t looking at all those things for herself. But now I understand.”

Olivier grinned. “Did you get me something?”

Riza smiled coyly. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Rebecca didn’t give Olivier a chance to reply. “Okay. Can we talk about this? Because I have about a million questions.”

Riza looked at Olivier. She nodded her acquiescence and Riza turned to Rebecca. “Go ahead.”

“Who started this?” Rebecca asked, hungry curiosity in her eyes.

Olivier silently looked at Riza. Riza considered the beginning of their relationship. She had been the one who pushed the line, the one encouraging more from the other. “Me.”

Rebecca laughed. “Oh, that is just great!”

“I wouldn’t have abused my position of authority.” Olivier stated.

Riza looked at her and said deadpan, “No. You just came to my quarters for tea and coffee nearly every day hoping I felt the same way.”

“I came to see you because I genuinely enjoyed your company. I hoped you felt the same, but that’s not why I chose to spend my time with you. I would have done so even if I knew there was never a chance of anything more.” Olivier defended.

Rebecca watched their exchange, ecstatic.

“You did kiss me first.” Riza shrugged.

“Riza, you came to my quarters at eight at night to spar; you knew what was going to happen.”

Riza smirked. “I was just trying to improve my hand to hand skills. Per my general’s orders.”

“Well, you certainly did better your close quarters performance.” Olivier flashed that wicked grin of hers.

Riza licked her lips. “I had an excellent teacher.”

Olivier’s grin spread.

Rebecca interrupted their flirtations. “Okay. I have to ask; did you ask for her trans—”

“No.” Olivier and Riza cut her off in concert.

“Why would anyone think that?” Olivier found the idea offensive for several reasons. “I asked for her transfer because she is the best sniper in Amestris and I make the best better.”

“You certainly do.” Riza smiled.

“The rest was a surprise.” Olivier brought Riza’s hands to her lips. “To be honest, I thought she was with Mustang.”

“You and everyone else.” Rebecca added.

Riza sighed. “A long time ago, I wanted that. But we never… It definitely won’t happen now.” She rubbed her thumb against Olivier’s hand in hers. “Rebecca, please don’t tell him. Or anyone else at East Command.”

“No one would believe me anyway. Riza Hawkeye went to Briggs and fell into bed with General Armstrong. They’d all laugh me off post.”

Grumman would laugh, but only because he would believe it, Riza thought. “It’s just probably better to not let them know until we’re ready.”

Rebecca nodded. “I can respect that. I appreciate the trust you put in me to tell me though. Even if it wasn’t quite how you’d planned.”

“Does anything we plan ever go how we expect?” Riza asked. In the resounding silence that followed, Riza excused herself from the table and went inside.

Finally alone with her best friend’s paramour, Rebecca looked at Olivier with sharp eyes. “I’m not even going to pretend that I could come close to kicking your ass, but if you hurt her, I will figure something out.”

Olivier laughed. “I appreciate your loyalty to Riza, but I promise you that she is safe in my hands.” Olivier glanced idly in the direction where Riza had disappeared from her view. “I won’t ever break her heart.”

Rebecca narrowed her eyes at Olivier. Reading between the lines, she judged the veracity of her words and the weight of what went unspoken. Rebecca leaned back in her chair. “Okay.”

* * *

Riza unlocked the door to her apartment. It was a strange confluence of worlds, bringing Olivier into a time capsule of her old life—a life she had once hoped to one day spend with Roy. “Let me open the windows to get some fresh air. I asked Rebecca to air it out every so often, but it’s a bit stale if we’re going to be staying here.”

Olivier looked around while Riza unlatched the windows; this was the closest look she had into Riza’s life. The apartment was nice, comfortable and simply furnished. A very old picture hung on the wall, a beautiful woman with a familiar gentle smile and warm eyes. It could only have been Riza’s mother. There were no pictures of her father. Olivier only saw one picture of Riza; a photo with all of her former squad mates. There was, however, a small collection of pictures of an adorable dog.

“Was this your dog?” Olivier asked when Riza returned.

Riza smiled. “Yes, Black Hayate. Fuery rescued him from the street. I gave him to Hughes; he has a little girl. It was a better fit than giving him to Mustang.”

Olivier made a face. “I’m sorry you had to give him away for my request.”

Riza gave her a soft look. “I traded up.”

Olivier looked her in the eyes, those soft, warm eyes. If she was completely honest with herself, Olivier would probably do just about anything Riza asked if she just looked at her with those eyes full of love. “I want you to know that I wasn’t talking about your back when I referred to your scars. I would never use that against you. I wouldn’t betray your trust like that.”

Riza sighed. “I know. But that’s not what it felt like at the time.”

Olivier’s shoulders sank. “That’s why I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have said it at all.”

Riza took Olivier’s hand, lacing their fingers. “I forgave you before you got here.”

Olivier squeezed Riza’s hand tight, careful not to hurt her. “Thank you.” Olivier said softly. She didn’t entirely believe she deserved it.

Riza pulled her over to the couch. This was going to be a long conversation and not one she wanted to be standing for. She let go of Olivier’s hand as they settled on the couch. “I should have said something before I left this morning. I didn’t think you’d want to see me though, and I was afraid of another fight. I didn’t want to leave on worse terms than we already had.”

Olivier gave her a look. “I always want to see you, Riza. Even when I am being an insufferable ass.” She let out a sigh. “Probably most when I am being an insufferable ass.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Riza’s lips. She wrapped her fingers around Olivier’s, running her thumb against the back of her hand. “Okay.”

“I never want to fight with you.” Olivier squeezed Riza’s fingers.

Riza smirked playfully. “No, just with everyone else.”

Olivier gave a small shrug; she had no comeback for the truth.

Riza sat until she could feel that Olivier was back to herself before continuing. “We are going to have to come to an understanding about Mustang. He’s important to me and we cannot have a fight every time his name comes up. I know you don’t care for him; but damn it, Olivier, if you care about me—let it go. He is not your rival. He is not your competition—for me or anything else. He’s not even your equal; no one is.”

Olivier wanted to smile, but knew it would only exacerbate Riza’s emotions. “I care very deeply for you, Riza. I love you.”

Riza’s eyes teared up in the corners, the question stinging before it even left her lips. “Do you love me more than you hate Mustang?”

Olivier pressed her brows together, wounded by the idea that Riza would even feel she had to ask. She reached a hand out and cupped Riza’s cheek, brushing the tears away with her thumb.

“Riza.” Olivier held her eyes. “I love you more.” _‘More than anything. More than I love myself. More than I thought I could ever love.’_

Riza pressed into Olivier’s hand. “You don’t have to love him; you don’t even have to like him. But please, Olivier, make peace with him as a part of my life. I will not give up my friendships to appease my girlfriend.”

“Nor would I ask you to.” Olivier tucked Riza’s hair behind her ear.

“Then trust my judgement for the people I hold close. I chose you, didn’t I?”

Olivier had not considered it that way. By questioning Mustang’s character, she was showing that she didn’t trust Riza to choose for herself. That was certainly not true; the amount of trust she placed in Riza was unparalleled.

“I do trust you. Implicitly.”

“Then show me.” Riza took Olivier’s hand in hers and kissed her palm.

“Tell me why you care so much about him.” Olivier pulled Riza close, wrapping her in her arms. “I’ll listen this time.”

Riza leaned against her and held Olivier’s hand with loosely laced fingers. “Like you, he is one whose reputation precedes him. So, like you, he learned to play it to his advantage.” Riza looked up at Olivier, waiting for her to protest. She kept her word and allowed Riza to continue uninterrupted. “He’s more clever than most people give him credit for, and an excellent tactician.”

“That makes him a good soldier and a decent colonel. What makes him a good man?”

Riza was frustrated with Olivier’s obstinance, but she was genuinely trying, and for that she could have infinite patience.

“He cares deeply for the people close to him. He shows that love through protection. He believes the best way to protect people is to have power. If he has power, he can control what happens to the people close to and subordinate to him, prevent harm from coming to them. And those people will have the power to control what happens to the people they care about.” Olivier started to argue, but Riza cut her off before she could begin.

“I know the world doesn’t work that way, least of all in the military. One day he will have to reconcile that naive belief with the real world, but that is his journey to make.” Riza sat quiet.

“The two of you are more alike than either of you is willing to admit.”

Olivier sighed heavily, and Riza felt her whole body relax. “I suppose you’re right.”

Riza moved to look Olivier in the eye. “Is this conversation finished?”

Olivier looked at her; the look on her face said this would be the only time this conversation would happen. “I have nothing more to say.”

Riza’s body softened as she smiled. “Good. Now you can have the gifts I got you today.”

Olivier grinned. Riza went to get the box.

“I honestly can’t remember the last time someone gave me a present.” Her grin faded. “Other than Alex.” Riza returned to her seat next to Olivier with a sad look. “Not even for your birthday?”

“Especially not for my birthday.”

Riza silently resigned to a lifetime of giving Olivier as many gifts as she could. She was just so damned hard to shop for. Riza set the large box on the table in front of her and handed Olivier the small pen case.

“Riza, you really didn’t need to get me anything. You know that?”

“Hush. Open it.” Riza gently commanded.

Olivier opened the case. The pen was striking, with its gold accents and body of royal blue and black striped wood. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

Riza smiled. “It reminded me of you. The first time I saw you when I arrived at Briggs.”

“Oh?” Olivier played coy.

Riza gave her a look. “Let no one ever say that an Armstrong does not know how to make an impression.”

“It’s not like you’d never seen me before.” Olivier made an effort to downplay her intentions that day.

“Not like that. Not as my CO. Not purposefully directed at me. And certainly not in such an overtly sexual manner.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I had not been prepared for how astoundingly ravishing you are.”

“Really?” Riza was surprised.

“It threw me.”

Riza blushed, she knew what it meant for Olivier to be shaken. “That was the gift I intended to purchase. But then I saw this,” Riza gestured to the large box on the table, “And had to get it for you.”

Olivier placed the pen case on the table and put the large box in her lap. The first thing she noticed when she opened it, after removing the brown paper packing, was the brass hawk. She pulled the display out and took in the beautiful swirls in the wood and the fine craftsmanship of the metalwork.

“I thought it would look wonderful on your desk.” Riza said quietly.

Olivier opened the drawers, testing the smoothness of the construction. After examination, she set the display back on the table and gave Riza her full attention. “Thank you, Riza. It’s magnificent.” She leaned close. “I have a much more bewitching Hawk, though.”

Riza pressed in, their lips tantalizingly close. “Is she now?”

Olivier grinned, her breath soft across Riza’s lips. “She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Olivier waited, letting Riza come to her.

Riza blushed and pressed her lips to Olivier’s in a hungry kiss. Sated, for the moment, Riza settled against her and stretched her arm around Olivier’s waist. “You really came down here to save our relationship?”

Olivier held her close. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Riza looked up at her with brilliant eyes and a wide grin. “That is the most romantic thing anyone has done for me.”

Olivier smiled gently. “I would do anything for you. I love you, Riza.”

Riza leaned her head on Olivier’s shoulder. “Miles didn’t tell you I would be back?”

“He did not.” Olivier narrowed her eyes. “All he said was that you’d left for East City. That shit.”

Riza laughed. “He does have a habit of encouraging you toward me, doesn’t he?”

“Yes. He does.” Olivier kissed the top of Riza’s head. “I’m not overly upset about it.” She tapped Riza’s shoulder to signal her to move. Olivier got up and crossed to the phone on a desk in the corner. She dialed and waited.

A somewhat abrupt, flat voice came through the ear piece. “Briggs command. Name and rank.”

“General Armstrong.”

“Is this a secure line, sir?” The communications officer asked.

“It damn well better be.”

Riza laughed to herself. Between Mustang and Olivier, she feared for anyone who might have tapped her phone line. She smiled and stretched out on the couch, staring at Olivier.

“What do you need, General?”

Riza watched as a playful grin curled her lips. “I need to speak with Major Miles.”

“Yes, sir.” The line went quiet.

Eventually Miles picked up. “Yes, sir, General?”

“Lieutenant Hawkeye and I will be spending the night in East City. We’ll be back tomorrow, late afternoon.”

“Understood.” He stated.

“You knew she was on leave.” It wasn’t a question.

She could hear his expression shift. “Yes, sir.”

“And you let me come down here.”

He almost sighed. “Yes, sir.”

Olivier took a deep breath, indulging in the sound of Miles’ life draining from his body.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” She heard him swallow. “Miles.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.” Olivier said earnestly.

He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome, sir.” The smile had returned to his voice. “Enjoy your night off.”

Olivier’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Riza. “Oh, I will Major.” She hung up and crossed back to Riza. “I fully intend to enjoy every inch of this evening.” She climbed on top of Riza and kissed her neck.

Riza tilted her head, giving the vulnerable flesh of her throat to Olivier. “Every inch?” She asked with a chuckle.

Olivier spoke into the soft skin at the corner of Riza’s jaw. “Every. Inch.”

Riza trembled; she swallowed hard. “Then I might suggest moving this to the bedroom.”

Olivier pressed her lips gently to Riza’s ear and with heavy breath whispered, “I am at your command.”

For a brief second, Riza forgot her own name. “We should go to the bedroom.”

Olivier purred and placed a gentle kiss to Riza’s cheek before standing up. “Show me the way.”

Riza took her hand and led her down the short hallway and into her bedroom. She took Olivier’s face in her hands and kissed her deeply. “I missed you.”

Olivier traced her thumb against the back of Riza’s hand. “I missed you too.”

Riza’s eyes drifted down over Olivier’s body. The just barely acceptably buttoned blouse hugged her delicious curves in the best way. “You look good out of uniform.”

Olivier crooked a smile. “You should see me in a mini skirt and stockings.”

Riza’s eyes went wide. “Yes. I should.” Her voice lowered, thick with lust. “You should see me in a high side slit with a thigh holster.” She watched Olivier’s bright eyes darken as her pupils dilated at the thought and hummed to herself.

Olivier nodded deliberately. “That would be lovely.”

Riza began slowly unbuttoning Olivier’s shirt. “This is a good color on you. But I want to see you out of it.” She traced her fingertip over the curve of Olivier’s breast beneath the fabric. The material was soft and light, unmistakably Cretan cotton: a subtle indicator of the wealth—and power—behind it. But Olivier’s skin was hot and smooth, and as much as Riza wanted to tear her clothes off to feel and taste every part of her body, she was going to take her time with this freshly given opportunity.

“Would you like me to help you?” Olivier asked.

“Not yet. I am quite fond of undressing you myself.” Riza undid the last button and gently tugged the material from her waistband. She ran her fingertips up Olivier’s stomach and breasts. Riza pushed the shirt away from her shoulders and pulled it off. She noticed Olivier’s bra was a bit lacier than usual. It was not wholly out of the ordinary, as she had come to understand Olivier’s appreciation for finer things. Riza reached around and undid the hooks. With a feather touch, she slid the straps down Olivier’s arms. Goosebumps ran along Olivier’s skin behind her touch.

“You like that?” Riza asked.

“I love it every time you touch me.” Olivier’s voice was thick with suggestion.

Riza took Olivier’s breast in her hand, squeezing gently, circling her thumb around Olivier’s nipple. She rolled her nipple between her thumb and finger. “Every time?” Riza asked as she pinched hard. Olivier gasped as a wave of pleasant pain ran through her body.

“Every time.”

Riza ran her knuckle down Olivier’s stomach, watching her muscles tense and flutter at her touch. She licked her lips. “I know how hard you work for this physique, and I want you to know that it is absolutely worth it.”

Olivier laughed, which made her entire stomach flex. “Good to know it’s appreciated.”

Riza began undoing the button of her pants. “The first time I saw you in those shorts and that tank.” Riza swallowed, remembering the first time she’d seen Olivier out of uniform. “I just wanted to touch you. To run my hands over those muscles. To feel them around me.”

Olivier touched Riza’s cheek to pull her attention up to her face. “I felt the same the moment I saw you.”

Riza blushed. She wasn’t ignorant to how attractive she was, but it was still striking somehow that a woman as stunningly beautiful as Olivier would feel like that for her. By now Riza had learned to read Olivier, and it was plain as day in her eyes every time she looked at her. No one else in the world mattered to Olivier but her.

Riza leaned in to brush her lips to Olivier’s in a teasing kiss. “I want very much to see all of that body now.” She undid the buttons of Olivier’s pants, slipping her fingers inside the waistband. “Take them off.” She ordered with a smirk.

Riza stepped back to watch as Olivier meticulously slid her pants over her hips and down her thighs, revealing suggestively lacy lingerie. “Were you planning on seducing me back?”

Olivier cocked a hip, flexing her thigh muscles on one leg. “I hoped merely for the opportunity to make things up to you.”

Riza grabbed Olivier by the hips and pulled her close. She slipped a hand down the back of the remaining bit of clothing on Olivier’s body. “Oh, you will.” Riza pushed the soft fabric down Olivier’s legs as she pressed her back up to the edge of the bed.

She put her lips to Olivier’s ear, her voice husky. “Sit.”

Olivier obeyed.

This was certainly something she could get used to. “Watch.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Keeping her eyes on Riza was absolutely not a problem. She arguably kept them on Riza perhaps a bit too often.

Riza took a step back. She checked to make sure Olivier’s eyes were fixed on her and she slowly pulled off her top. Teasingly slow, she undid her pants and pulled them pointedly over her delightfully broad hips. She could see Olivier’s breathing quicken. “Would you like to see more?”

“Yes, please.”

Riza smiled and undid the hooks of her bra one at a time. She slid down one strap, and then the other. Finally letting it fall to the floor. She stood for a moment, letting Olivier enjoy the view. She stepped forward with the intention of telling her to use her mouth on them.

Olivier’s face was level to Riza’s chest and she couldn’t resist. She reached up and cupped Riza’s breast, the soft skin sinking into her palm with pleasant weight. Olivier watched her breast move as she massaged it.

Riza put a finger under Olivier’s chin, lifting her face up to hers. “Did I say you could?”

Olivier’s lips parted, her breath heavy. “You did not. I apologize.”

“Remove your hand.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Olivier let go.

Riza tsked her and stepped back out of her reach. “I was going to let you kiss them.” She grabbed her own breasts, pushing them gently together. Riza circled her nipples with her fingers. “I was going to let you lick them.” She took her nipples between her thumb and finger, pinching and tugging just slightly. “I was going to let you suck on them until you were content.”

Olivier watched, her face unmoved, but her breathing was quick and her eyes tempestuously dark with desire.

“You couldn’t wait. So now you have to sit.” Riza hooked the waistband of her underwear and pushed them to the floor. She walked slow and catlike, swinging her hips loosely side to side with each step, to a large upholstered chair in the corner. She sat, meeting eyes with Olivier again. “And watch.” She palmed her breasts again, squeezing gently. Her right hand wandered down her stomach and between her thighs. “And know that I am thinking of you.”

Olivier gripped the edge of the mattress as she watched. She would not betray the control she placed in Riza’s hands a second time. She screwed up her not insignificant wealth of self-control; she would do nothing unless Riza gave the command.

Riza grasped her breast, teasing the nipple the way Olivier always did—pleasurable with a tinge of pain, pinching and tugging, rolling it between her fingers as it stiffened. She ran her nails up the inside of her own thigh as she spread her legs, the way Olivier loved to do so much. Riza watched her body tense for the first wave of release when she’d touch herself. Riza held her there, her hand hovering between her thighs, fingers dangerously close. Olivier flexed as she begged for Riza to touch herself. Riza ran her tongue across her lips and dipped her fingers. She let out a moan as she brushed her clit. Olivier dug her nails into the mattress and Riza smiled wider.

Riza worked her fingers, watching Olivier’s face. “I’m so wet for you, Olivier.”

“Fuck.” Olivier groaned. “So am I, Riza.”

Riza chuckled to herself and slid her fingers inside. “So wet and hot.”

Olivier gritted her teeth. All she could think of was how it felt to be inside Riza. The way she felt around her fingers, how her hips bucked as she slid in and out. She was always so hot and so wet, so eager for Olivier’s touch. The way she clenched when she came, so tight Olivier almost couldn’t pull out. She swallowed hard. Her fingers twitched against the bed, curling the way Riza liked when she fucked her.

Riza pulled her fingers out; Olivier could see the sunlight shining on the wetness of her fingers and knew exactly what it felt like. Olivier licked her lips, thinking about how Riza tasted. Riza touched her slick fingers to her clit and let out another moan at the feeling. She lost herself in the motion of her fingers sliding back and forth across her clit, her hips rocking slightly. She pressed her breast up, craning her neck to flutter her tongue against her nipple.

Despite herself, Olivier whimpered softly.

“I wish it was your tongue, too, Olivier.” Riza watched Olivier’s face. Her lips were parted, but her teeth were clenched. Her eyes were that stormy ferocity of emotions that was both terrifying and alluring in its intensity. Riza pinched her nipple, “I wish it was your teeth.” She moaned.

Olivier’s chest heaved with quick, harsh breaths. She did so much love to use her teeth.

Riza reveled in the wonderful possessiveness Olivier showed during sex. Riza belonged to Olivier, and she would leave the marks to show it. Red lines up her thighs and down her back, handprints on her ass, and—Riza’s personal favorite—the purple and red circles of bite marks wherever the urge struck her to sink her teeth in.

Riza teased her nipple, fluttering her fingers against her clit. She thought about Olivier sinking her teeth into the muscle of her shoulder. The way her breath played against her neck, the way she growled low in her throat rumbling up through her tongue and against her skin. The relinquished vulnerability, the beautiful surrender of her self to Olivier. Riza held her gaze and pushed herself over the edge, loudly moaning as she came.

Olivier groaned, gripping the edge of the bed. Her legs flexed against the floor as she fought the urge to jump up and rush to hold Riza, to touch her, to be inside her.

Riza sat still, frozen except for her chest as her breathing slowed. A bead of sweat ran down her throat, between her breasts, and down her stomach. Olivier watched it traverse Riza’s body until it ran into her palm pressed against herself. She stared at Riza’s hand. Riza smiled to herself and pulled her fingers free. They were filthy wet and Olivier clenched her jaw at the sight. Riza slowly raised her fingers to her lips, watching Olivier’s eyes track them. She opened her mouth; sticking out her tongue, she moved her fingers.

“Riza.” Olivier’s voice was soft, pleading.

Riza rose and stepped toward Olivier, her fingers held out for her. She leaned her knee into Olivier’s thigh, but Olivier didn’t move. She looked up at Riza with those startling blue eyes and those distractingly voluptuous lips and asked with desperate sincerity, “Please.”

Riza’s breath caught and all she could do was nod as she touched her fingers to Olivier’s lip. Olivier licked the tips of Riza’s fingers. Her eyes on Riza’s as she slid her tongue farther and farther up her digits. She reached a hand up to Riza’s side, but stopped before touching. Riza nodded again, and Olivier put her hand around Riza’s hip.

Riza pushed her fingers into Olivier’s mouth. Olivier smiled up at her. She wrapped her hand around Riza’s wrist and gently held it in place. She leaned forward, pulling the length of Riza’s fingers into her mouth. Riza’s jaw went slack and a small gasp escaped her lips. Olivier indulged in her reaction before closing her eyes and working her tongue around Riza’s fingers as she moved them in and out of her mouth. She could smell the sex on Riza’s thighs and taste the saltiness of her on her fingers.

All Riza could think about was Olivier’s mouth. It felt like fucking her, like being so deep inside her. But that tongue. Riza just kept thinking about that tongue on her.

“Olivier.” She managed to choke out.

Olivier opened her eyes and looked up at her. She pulled Riza’s fingers from her mouth and kissed her fingertips. “Yes, Riza?”

Riza brushed Olivier’s bangs from her face, tucking them behind her ear. She curled her fingers around the back of Olivier’s head, tilting her face up ever so slightly. “I would like for you to do that to my nipples.” She pushed Olivier’s face gently toward her.

“Anything you desire, my love.” Olivier smiled and touched her lips to Riza’s chest. She kissed gently around Riza’s breast, closer and closer to her nipple. Olivier grazed her open mouth across the sensitive skin; Riza’s grip in her hair tightened reflexively. She pressed a long, slow kiss to her and Riza let out a small breath. Olivier held Riza’s hip and ran the other hand up her back. She opened her mouth and held her tongue at the edge of her lips, not quite touching Riza. She paused, letting her hot breath tighten the skin before pressing the tip of her tongue against her nipple and flicking it.

Riza gripped Olivier’s hair and sighed, her touch was like fire burning away the tension in her body. Olivier purred as she felt Riza relax and circled her tongue around Riza’s nipple. Riza pressed Olivier into her, begging for more of her touch. Olivier enveloped Riza’s nipple with her mouth, pressing the flat of her tongue against it. She pulled Riza’s body into her and began to work her mouth against Riza’s breast as she had her fingers.

Riza let out a breath, “Yes.” She pushed Olivier’s head closer.

Olivier sucked until Riza’s nipple was red and sensitive. Riza tugged her back and shifted, offering her other breast for her attention. Olivier took Riza’s nipple between her teeth and fluttered her tongue against it. Riza moaned softly, pressing Olivier closer. Olivier lapped at her flesh, rocking her whole body as she teased Riza’s skin.

Riza sank into Olivier’s touch, drowning out every sensation in the world but Olivier’s body against her own. The tension between her thighs was building again as Riza focused on Olivier’s tongue and her hot mouth around her nipple; her soft hands—against Riza’s back and gripping firmly onto her hip. The way Olivier touched her… like she had known every curve, every dip, every part of her body before she had even seen it. Riza smiled as it dawned on her that that was exactly what it was: Olivier had learned every inch of her body before she’d ever touched it.

Riza pulled Olivier back by her hair. Olivier grabbed her nipple with her teeth, letting Riza control the force as she tugged back and it slipped from her mouth. Riza gasped and looked down at Olivier.

“How many times did you imagine touching me before that night?” Riza asked, her fingers playing idly along Olivier’s jaw.

Olivier grinned up at her. “Dozens. Hundreds. Every day I left your quarters. Every time I saw you. I am ashamed at the amount of time I spent thinking of you when I was meant to be working.”

Riza linked her fingers behind Olivier’s head, tracing her thumbs down the sides of her throat. She leaned down to kiss her. The vaguest hint of herself remained on Olivier’s lips. She kissed Olivier with a ravenous savagery, pulling the breath from her.

Riza pulled free, leaning her forehead against Olivier’s. “Lie down.”

Riza released her and Olivier pushed herself onto the bed. Riza made a small circle with her finger, indicating for Olivier to lay properly. She propped herself up on the pillows against the headboard.

Riza shook her head. “Move down.”

Olivier grinned and pushed the pillows out of the way as she adjusted.

Riza climbed onto the bed beside her. “I want that gorgeous,” Riza ran a thumb across Olivier’s lips, “Sexy mouth of yours.”

Olivier snapped her teeth carefully into Riza’s thumb and circled her tongue around the tip of it. Riza pressed her thumb in just a little. Olivier closed her lips and sucked as Riza pulled her thumb free.

Riza swallowed.

Olivier placed her hands on Riza’s sides and eased her body on top of her. Riza straddled Olivier’s shoulders, her hands against the wall. Olivier placed a kiss to the inside of Riza’s thigh where she’d left her own red marks. “That’s my job.”

“Then do it.”

Olivier sighed against Riza’s leg, purposefully teasing the sensitive skin. “When the time’s right, all of Amestris will know you’re mine. Right now, I’ll settle for making the neighbors exceptionally jealous.” Olivier grabbed Riza’s hips and lowered her down onto her tongue.

“Fuck.” Riza’s hand slipped down to grab the headboard. She whimpered and worked her hips against Olivier’s mouth. Riza fell away into the feeling of Olivier’s tongue gliding across her clit, her lips pressed against her, Olivier’s strong hands on her hips, gently guiding her back and forth in time with her tongue. Her nails dug into the headboard and she leaned onto her forearm braced against the wall.

Olivier savored the sweet, tangy taste of Riza on her tongue. She was a delicious mess for her. Olivier worked at Riza, indulging in the tremble in her thighs as she got closer. Olivier drew her out, taking her to the edge before changing strokes and reeling her back. She wanted this to last as long as she could, wanted Riza to feel as good as she was capable of making her.

Free from the restrictions of proximity and decorum at Briggs, Riza made no effort to hold in her cries as she rode Olivier’s tongue. She reached down and buried her fingers in Olivier’s hair. Her grip tightened as she got closer. “Olivier.” She choked out between moans and desperate breaths. “Please.”

Olivier gripped tight into Riza’s hips, holding her still as she fluttered her tongue.

“Yes.” Riza cried out. “Don’t stop.”

Olivier held her tighter. Riza’s thighs shuddered against her jaw. She dug red crescents across Riza’s ass with her nails as she came, screaming and tugging at her hair. Riza leaned against the wall, obscene with sweat and spit and her own essence. Olivier just watched, staring up at Riza as she tried to breathe. Her hand in Olivier’s hair trembled.

When the shaking in her thighs stopped and Riza could feel her legs, she rolled off Olivier and fell into the mattress beside her.

Olivier chuckled as she wiped her mouth and chin, perfectly contented.

Riza purred as she grasped at her and pressed her body close. “I bet you are pleased with yourself.” Riza pressed her thighs together. “You should be.”

Olivier embraced Riza in her arms, holding her tight. “Did I make things up to you?”

Riza laughed against Olivier’s shoulder at such a ridiculous question.

Olivier turned to look at her. “What?”

Riza looked at her lips, red and shimmering wet. She knew they would be silken soft. Riza licked her lips. And Olivier’s lips would taste like her... Riza grabbed her face and kissed her deeply. Riza pulled back and leaned on her elbow, just looking at her. Olivier reached up and brushed the hair from Riza’s face and smiled up at her.

“Olivier, you never need to make anything up to me.” Riza stroked her cheek. “But I definitely appreciated the effort and you can feel free to make things up to me whenever you like in the future.”

Olivier’s smile crooked into a smirk. “Riza.” She stopped.

“Yes, Olivier?”

Her smirk settled into a warm, calm smile that whispered of a far-off feeling of sun across a spring meadow. “You have control of me every moment of every day. I would do anything you asked of me.”

Riza grinned and touched a gentle kiss to Olivier’s lips. “I know.” She traced a fingertip along Olivier’s throat. “But there is something to be said for you simply obeying my commands.”

“Any time you feel like you would like to do that again, please do not be afraid to let me know.”

“Mmm.” Riza ran her finger down Olivier’s chest. “General Armstrong, at my command.” Riza laughed low in her throat. “I believe I will.” She circled her finger around Olivier’s nipple. “You must be painfully turned on right now.”

“You have no idea how aroused I am.” She pulled her leg up.

Riza ran her fingers down Olivier’s stomach. “And what would you like to do about that?”

Olivier rolled on top of Riza. “I would like to ride your fingers.”

Riza shifted flat onto her back as Olivier settled against her hips. Olivier began to move her hips, grinding against Riza. She could feel how incredibly wet Olivier was, already slick against her skin. Riza put her hands low on Olivier’s hips, pulling her down harder with each downward stroke.

“That’s good. But I need you inside me, Riza.” Olivier raised up and Riza dragged her fingers down Olivier’s hip and between her thighs.

Riza touched her fingers to Olivier and she let out a moan. She was indecently wet and desperate. Riza slowly slid her fingers inside.

“Fuck. Yes.” Olivier bucked her hips against Riza’s hand. She gave Riza a moment to fit her wrist into place. “Ready?” Olivier asked, desire dripping at the edges of her voice.

“Yes.” Riza nodded.

Olivier sank down, her weight pushing Riza’s fingers deeper inside her. She swung her hips again, grinding down into Riza. Her fingers slipped in and out, barely brushing her clit.

Riza had to clear her throat to breath as she watched Olivier ride her.

Olivier wove her fingers between Riza’s on her hip and leaned back onto her arm. The shift in angle let Riza slide into her a little further. She pushed off her arm with each thrust into Riza’s hips.

Riza watched Olivier’s body, her muscles flexing, her hips digging into her own. Sweat formed at her neck, running down her throat and between her breasts shaking as she swung her hips harder.

 _‘That’s yours.’_ A voice in the back of her mind said. Riza growled in response. Yes, she was. She pushed her fingers up into Olivier as her lover pressed down.

“Yes, Riza. Fuck me. I want to come all over you.”

Riza shifted her wrist a little and curled her fingers just so. They pulled against Olivier inside as she slid back. Olivier pressed her hips harder and faster, working herself up until she was so close that her rhythm slowed. Her body desperate to pull the most pleasure out of each movement. Riza dug her nails into her hip, tugging Olivier into her.

Olivier balled up the sheet in her fist. She was so close. Riza could feel it, her whole body tensed, ready for release. She jerked her hips up into Olivier as she thrust down. Olivier screamed her name as she came, riding Riza down into the mattress.

Olivier waited, straddling Riza’s hips, her lover’s fingers deep inside her until the aftershocks had passed. She slowly raised her hips off Riza, allowing her fingers to slip free. A shudder passed through Olivier’s thighs. She collapsed on the bed, her arm across Riza’s stomach.

Riza slowly worked her hand, loosening her wrist. It was stiff, but fuck, it had been worth it. Olivier kissed her shoulder as they lazed in each other’s arms in the quiet.

Riza was pleasantly coasting into sleep when a car horn sounded on the street, followed by loud swearing. Riza looked over with hope, but knew it wouldn’t change anything. She flushed red across her face and chest. “I forgot the windows were still open.”

Olivier chuffed. “I didn’t. I told you I wanted to make the neighbors jealous.”

“You are awful.” Riza gave her a playful look.

“In the best way.” Olivier winked and kissed her. “I’ll get them.” Olivier got out of bed and took a step toward the windows—completely naked, her thighs still glistening from sex.

“Don’t you dare. Get back here!” Riza chastised her.

Olivier stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Riza looked her up and down. “That is just for me.”

Olivier cocked a smug grin. “Indeed, it is.” She returned to bed.

“I will get them. And I will put a robe on before I do.” Riza got up and went first to her closet. She pulled a long green and gold marbled robe and wrapped it around herself, loosely tying it around her waist. No longer indecent, Riza crossed to the windows. When she had opened the windows, she had pulled the shades up to let in the light. The evening sun was reaching through just over the edge of the building across the street. The windows were half open and Riza had no doubt that the people on the street not far below had heard their activities. She closed them and then stood, looking out over the street and the city for what she knew was likely the last time from this room. The sky was lit in a splash of reds and oranges with dusky purple clouds.

Olivier carefully came up behind her, using Riza’s frame to hide her body from the windows, and wrapped one arm around her waist. Riza leaned back into her; Olivier kissed her neck and slipped a hand inside the neckline of her robe, gently grasping her breast.

“Olivier.” Riza scolded her, but the tone of her voice was hardly upset.

She laughed softly against Riza’s shoulder. “They at least deserve to know who you were with.”

Riza looked at Olivier, her face bathed in the ruddy warm glow of the setting sun. It made her lips look burnished red and her eyes gleam a rich purple. “Proud of yourself?”

Olivier smiled. “Well, yes.” Her expression softened, the way it did only when they were alone together. “I am proud of you. To have you, Riza.”

Riza reached out and pulled the shades down. She turned to Olivier and kissed her deeply. Olivier undid the sash at Riza’s waist and pushed the robe off her shoulders. “We should get to bed.”

“Tired already?” Riza teased.

Olivier hummed low and looked at Riza with dark eyes. “Sated.”

Riza stretched and touched her hand to Olivier’s cheek. “Then let’s get some rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter scene titles:  
> ~maybe Olivier has some prejudices  
> ~leaving  
> ~Olivier makes the strangest decision of her life  
> ~Riza and Rebecca shopping montage  
> ~Queen takes king  
> ~Rebecca has the best lunch EVER  
> ~serious talk for serious relationship  
> ~apology accepted ;)
> 
> I had this idea in my head for a while, but couldn't quite think of a way to execute it within the story. It finally came to me and I had a decent plan. Half of this was not planned, they just....did it. I was just in the backseat scribbling as fast as I could while they drove.


	6. That Armstrong Flair

Olivier arranged for herself and Riza to have some time off to visit Central for the annual harvest festival. It was an amusing spectacle she had enjoyed as a child and something she wanted to share with her partner. It had been a very long time since she had attended, and it seemed like something Riza would appreciate. Alex was, blessedly, babysitting the Elric brothers in the south and would be away from the manor for the extent of their stay.

It would also be Riza’s formal introduction to her family, something that gave Olivier a strange, unsettled feeling in her stomach.

A car was waiting for them at the station when they arrived. Olivier loaded their small bags into the trunk and joined Riza in the backseat. They passed through the city streets until they reached the Armstrong manor. The gates were open for their arrival.

Riza saw Olivier’s childhood home, and eventual personal estate, for the first time. The privet hedges were dotted with clusters of small black berries and the trees surrounding the grounds were painted brilliant reds and yellows and oranges. “It’s beautiful.”

Olivier looked out the window with fresh eyes. “I suppose after a while I took it for granted. It is quite lovely.” She returned her attention to Riza. “They can take our bags to our room and I can walk you around, if you’d like.”

Riza smiled at her. “That would be nice.”

The car stopped at the stairs leading up to the entrance. Olivier stepped out and directed the driver and footman. “Just take our bags to my room, please. We’re going to walk the grounds and tour the house before we settle.”

“Yes, ma’am. Not a problem.” The footman nodded.

“If you see my parents, let them know we’ve arrived.” Olivier added.

The driver set a bag down on the cobblestone. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She smiled politely at them and turned her focus to Riza.

Riza hooked her arm around Olivier’s. “I’ve never been anywhere this nice.”

Olivier grinned at her. “Wait until dinner tonight, the spread they will lay out for you will be a spectacle in itself. The food is honestly the only thing I miss.”

Riza slid her hand down Olivier’s arm and interlaced their fingers. “Not your family?”

“I haven’t spoken to my parents in years, my siblings longer. I wouldn’t speak to Alex at all if it weren’t for the occasional professional communication.”

Riza’s visage clouded for a moment. “I guess I sometimes wish I still had the chance.”

Olivier stopped and turned to her. She put her hand against Riza’s neck, brushing her thumb over her cheek. “You have a lot of people who care about you, Riza. People who choose to love you. You did well.”

Riza smiled weakly at her. “Thank you.”

Olivier led Riza around the property. The front grounds were simple with its manicured patches and precisely clipped privet hedges. In the back, there was a small statuary garden around a large pool full of brightly colored fish. Riza picked up the subtle traces of alchemy on some of the statues. Despite being in the city, the stone walls and thick trees kept most of the noise out; Riza could only hear the soft singing of birds and the satisfying crunch of leaves beneath their feet. And Olivier’s wonderfully smooth, pleasant voice. It was a lovely walk with Olivier pointing out memories. Most of which involved playing rather roughly with her younger siblings.

Olivier brought her inside to show her around the house. The many places where, as a child, she’d ambushed Alex. In the elaborate dining room, Olivier pulled free a loose baseboard to reveal a secret hiding spot. After all these years, there was still a small knife tucked away inside. Olivier grinned; a very, very long time ago it had been a mighty sword used to defeat the invading hordes of various kinds. She wiped the dust off the oiled blade and returned it to its refuge behind the board. One day perhaps another Armstrong would find the loose board and be rewarded while playing out an adventure.

Olivier walked Riza through the rest of the house: the extensive library, the large gymnasium, the ball room. Each room lavishly decorated with wooden furniture, deeply colored wallpapers, and family portraits and other artworks. It was a bit much to take in for Riza as she truly began to comprehend the environment in which Olivier had been raised.

“I’m going to get lost in this house before we leave.” Riza commented.

Olivier smiled at her with a sly spark in her eyes. “Then I’ll just have to hunt you down.”

Riza kissed her on the cheek. “In that case, maybe I’ll do it on purpose.”

Olivier pulled her in for a long kiss.

With a sigh, Olivier pulled back. “As much as I’d love to continue this line of conversation, it’s about lunch time and we are expected to attend in order for me to introduce you.”

Riza tensed. “Will they like me?”

“Of course.” Olivier was confident that there could be no other option. “You’re brilliant, clever, wonderfully loving and kind.” Riza blushed at the compliment. “But if, for some reason, they don’t—I don’t really care what they think.” Olivier held Riza’s gaze. “I love you.”

That was all there was to it. Riza laughed; her stubbornness was part of why she loved Olivier.

Olivier led the way down to the kitchen. “Is lunch nearly ready?”

“Oh, Ms. Olivier. Hello.” An old woman with a warm face smiled wide at her. “Yes, ma’am. Not more than ten minutes and it will be on the table.”

Olivier gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you, Estere.”

It was time to meet the parents. Olivier took Riza’s hand and made her way to the informal dining room they typically used for lunch. Olivier’s parents were already seated at the table. Catherine stood by the window, watching the birds toss the leaf litter around searching for their meals.

The three of them turned in unison as the women walked in the room. Olivier’s immediate reaction was stark annoyance. Riza felt her tense and squeezed her hand gently. Olivier ran her thumb over Riza’s knuckles and reminded herself what this was for.

“Father, mother,” she took a breath. “This is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.”

“Good afternoon.” Riza offered.

They sat as the family made their greetings. Olivier maintained contact with Riza while they ate—a hand on hers on the table, her knee pressed against Riza’s thigh, her arm across the back of Riza’s chair. A physical comfort and reminder of her emotional support.

Catherine excused herself from the table once the meal was done. She was eager to speak with Riza, but recognized that now was not the time. Shortly into their digestifs, her mother left. Olivier lingered, and Riza with her.

Olivier polished off her drink and turned to Riza. “Would you mind giving me a moment alone with my father? I have some business I need to discuss with him.”

“Not at all.” She kissed Olivier on the cheek.

Riza left, closing the door behind her to give them privacy. Olivier proceeded as she did in all things, straight forward and without hesitation. “Father, I want grandmother’s ring.”

He gave a deep laugh. “We were wondering if you would ever find someone to settle down with. She seems like a lovely girl. That ring is an heirloom, Olivier, are you sure about her?”

Olivier clenched her jaw, leaning into the table. “I’m sure. The ring won’t leave the family, I promise.”

He eyed her silently for a moment, regarding her certitude. Olivier didn’t flinch. He rose from his seat. “I’ll go get it.”

Olivier followed her father to the jewelry safe in his office. He rummaged through to find the right box. “Ah, here you go.” He handed her a small wooden box with the Armstrong crest pyrographed onto the lid.

She opened the box to assure the ring was inside, and that it was the correct one. A three carat barely-blue diamond with two pale rubies and a sapphire on either side with two small white diamonds along the band. The platinum band was filigreed nearly all around with a pattern that matched the etching on the family sabre. It truly hit home for Olivier in that moment.

She was going to ask Riza to marry her.

“Thank you, father.”

“Do let your mother and me know how it goes.” There was an unmistakable undertone in his voice.

Olivier looked up from the ring. “She’ll say yes, I have no doubt.”

He clapped her on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. I can’t wait to welcome her to the family.”

* * *

They woke early the next morning to make the most of the day at the festival. While dressing, they discussed the plan for the day’s events.

“I thought we could have our driver drop us off and we’ll take a cab to get home. Since we don’t have a specific time we’ll be leaving.” Olivier said.

“Okay. Is the festival free or will there be fees?” Riza asked while pulling on her shirt.

Olivier just smiled at her. “Don’t worry about the money, Riza.”

Riza looked around the room, recalling the extensive means to which Olivier had access. It would take some getting used to.

They did as Olivier suggested and arrived at the brightly decorated gates of the festival grounds. She sent the driver off with a thank you. Entrance to the festival was free, but many of the attractions within had a small fee. Aside from the midway and rides, there were vendors selling handmade goods and homegrown produce. As well as competitions for all assortment of food-related affairs: best recipes, largest vegetables, and eating contests.

Olivier followed Riza’s lead down the row of vendors. There were a few small things she expressed interest in, if they were still there later in the day. Olivier made mental notes of all of it, even if they didn’t pick them up today.

They made their way over to the midway and its bright lights and flashy barkers.

“Test your strength! Are you a man or a mouse?!” A barker beckoned would-be patrons to his attraction. He stood beside a twelve-foot-tall board embellished with numbers and vague insults. Riza smiled and elbowed Olivier.

“I don’t need to do that; I know how strong I am.” Olivier protested.

“You don’t want to show off for your girlfriend?”

Olivier stopped for the briefest moment and redirected toward the booth.

The barker’s eyes went bright when he saw them approaching with purpose. “So, which of you ladies would like a try? Both perhaps?”

“Just her.” Riza replied.

He handed Olivier the smaller of the mallets he had for the game. “How far do you think you can reach, miss? Do you have a ‘bad back?’ Or maybe you can make it all the way up to ‘good girl?’” He winked at her with his showman’s smile.

“The other hammer.” She eyed him contemptuously.

He made a low whistle, feigning impress, and handed her the larger mallet. Olivier stepped back for her swing. The barker took a moment to look her over as she readied: icy blue eyes, strong build, a curl at the end of her pale blonde hair. He realized too late. Olivier sent the puck surging up the board and into the bell with a resounding clang. The ring soured and the puck buzzed as it rattled side to side. The bell now had a large dent in the bottom and was bent up and back, the bolt holding it in place shorn mostly through. The puck shook so hard, it came free from the track.

Olivier handed back the hammer with a smug grin. She pulled a few bills from her pocket and tossed them toward the man. “This is for your machine.” She threw another bill. “And that’s for your dignity.”

They walked off, Riza smirking with pride. “You didn’t have to wreck his game.”

“He shouldn’t have condescended then.” Olivier stated, matter-of-factly.

Riza hooked her arm with Olivier’s and kissed her on the cheek. She had to admit that it was fun to watch.

A little farther down the midway they came to a shooting gallery. Olivier turned to Riza, “Care to repay the favor?”

“Of course.”

Riza watched a round to see how well sighted the guns were. She took the one that seemed to fire the straightest and finished with a perfect score. As reward, she was presented with a giant stuffed sheep dog prize.

A short way ahead a small child was crying by the whack-a-mole booth, upset because he couldn’t keep up with the older kids enough to win a toy. Olivier looked at him with annoyance, but Riza stopped and knelt down.

“Hey.” She said.

He slacked his crying.

“You want a prize?”

He nodded.

Riza smiled at him and handed over her giant toy. “Here you go.”

His eyes went wide.

“Now you’ve got the biggest prize.” Riza smiled at him.

He squeezed the toy tight. “Thank you, lady.”

Riza mussed his hair. “You’re welcome.”

The boy turned to his mother to show off his plush.

Riza took Olivier’s hand and they continued on for a while, both in their own heads.

Eventually, Riza asked, “Do you want children?”

“Do you?” It seemed far more important to Riza than herself.

Riza took a moment to answer. “Yes. Some day I’d like to have children. But I don’t know if that will ever happen.” She looked at Olivier with a sadness deep behind her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Briggs isn’t exactly the best place to raise a family.” Olivier deflected.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Olivier made a small sound in her throat. “I used to think about a family. I let it go, believing the time had passed.” She hesitated, thinking back on the way she’d treated her siblings, especially her brother. “I don’t think I’d be a very good mother.”

Riza squeezed her hand. “I think you would be.” Olivier squeezed back, but didn’t respond. “I won’t be disappointed if it doesn’t happen. We both made our choices, knowing what it might mean for our futures.”

They walked on in silence. Olivier reacquainting herself to the less distant possibility of a family.

“The hay maze sounds fun.” Riza spoke up, heading toward it.

Olivier followed and paid their entrance fees. “The best strategy for solving a maze is to follow the wall taking only right or left turns. It is usually the longest route, but it will always lead to the exit.”

Riza smiled playfully. “Where’s the fun in that?” She kissed Olivier on the cheek and took off to the left.

Olivier grinned wickedly. A maze was an acceptable challenge, but a chase was another thing entirely.

She followed after Riza, who had already disappeared around a corner. Olivier looked down to try to follow Riza’s tracks, but the soft grass had already seen so many footsteps and gave up no secrets. She tried to listen for her footfalls or the familiar sound of the way she moved. The noises of the festival around them were too loud and drowned out anything that the hay walls didn’t smother. She was left with nothing but her intuition and a familiarity with the way Riza thought.

Olivier traversed the turns of the maze until she felt someone grab her waist from behind. Her first instinct was to turn and swing, but she recognized Riza’s grip on her hips. Riza spun her around and pushed her against a wall of hay. Beaming triumphantly, she pressed against Olivier. “I got you.”

Olivier grinned back and purred. “You certainly do.” She reached a hand up to the back of Riza’s head and pulled her in for a kiss.

After indulging for a time, they made their way out of the maze together. Riza casually plucked strands of hay from Olivier’s hair.

“Sorry.” Riza knew how important a respectful appearance was to Olivier.

“Don’t be.” Olivier smiled at her. “It was worth it.”

* * *

Looming over the festival grounds every year was a brilliantly colored Ferris wheel. Its round basket cars had seats for ten people, with enough room in the middle to mill about without feeling cramped. Olivier glanced at the wheel as it carried a large family around, the children peaking over the window ledge. “I’m sure the view from the Ferris wheel is wonderful.” She suggested.

“You’re probably right. You want to ride it?” Riza asked.

“Yes, I think I would.”

They made their way to the end of the queue. “I’ll be right back.” Olivier left Riza with a confused look. She walked up to the man running the wheel. “Excuse me.”

“Yes, ma’am?” He looked at her quizzically.

Olivier pulled the ring box out of her pocket just enough for him to see it. “I need a private car and for a moment at the top.” She handed him a few bills.

He happily accepted the money. “Not a problem! Good luck, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Olivier returned to Riza.

“What did you just do?” Riza asked, suspicious.

“I asked for an opportunity to appreciate the view.” Olivier answered flatly.

“Okay.” Riza narrowed her eyes, but didn’t pursue.

Their turn to load came. The man kept his word and gave them a car to themselves. The wheel started to turn and their car rose. Olivier leaned against the window edge looking out over the city as they climbed.

Riza put her arm around Olivier’s hips and pressed close to her. “The view is amazing. You can probably see half the city from the top.”

“We’ll find out in a minute.”

The wheel turned slowly, frustrating Olivier’s impatience. When their car reached the apex, the whole thing lurched to a stop. Riza gave her a look, but Olivier just smiled.

Olivier straightened up and idly made her way around to the opposite side of the car. “You should see the view on this side.”

Riza made her way to the side that looked over the festival grounds. Olivier waited, watching Riza intently out of the corner of her eye. A sharp intake of breath and her body tensing let Olivier know she’d seen it. Mixed into the twisting paths of the hay maze was a blatant question: ‘Riza will you marry me?’

As Riza took in the scene, Olivier stepped back into the open space in the middle of the car. Riza turned around to watch her. Olivier pulled the ring box from her pocket. “We’ve been together for a year now, and I genuinely never expected to be in this position. But finding myself with you, I only have one thing to say.” She dropped to one knee, holding out the open box. “Riza Hawkeye, having given me the privilege of being your beloved, would you do me the honor of becoming your wife?”

Riza’s eyes threatened tears. “Of course, Olivier. Yes.”

Olivier slid the ring onto Riza’s finger and stood, pulling Riza close around the waist. Riza wrapped her arms around Olivier’s neck and kissed her deeply with a fresh passion.

Riza pulled back to catch her breath. She looked up at Olivier with a smile. “This is amazing and wonderful, but our anniversary isn’t for another three months.”

Olivier looked at her, confused. “No, it’s today.”

“Our anniversary is the first time we…” A blush colored Riza’s cheeks. “The first time we spent the night together. That was three months from now.”

“Today is the day I apologized for taking my anger out on you. I told you I missed you. We talked about our attraction. I came to your room every day.”

Riza laughed sweetly. “Olivier, honey, we weren’t together yet. Not until…” Her voice trailed off. She could see the storm brewing behind those gorgeous blue eyes. Riza buried a hand in her pale blonde hair. “It doesn’t matter.” She pulled Olivier in for a kiss.

It was impossible to be upset with Riza’s tongue teasing her lips. Olivier pulled her close by the hips and welcomed her tongue.

The wheel jerked into motion again. Riza pulled away from the kiss, holding tight to Olivier. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to the Armstrong flair for the dramatic.” She smiled, knowing it was a losing battle.

Olivier beamed. “You’ll have plenty of time.”

They spent the rest of the day partaking in the delicious samples of pies and jams. Retracing their steps to the vendors, Olivier was to pick up several of the items Riza had wanted. They were small things, a pair of matching mugs, a small statue of a dog, and a hand-painted nature scene in beautiful watercolors. The sun was setting and the fireworks would begin soon. Riza asked to stay to see them. Olivier happily obliged and they found a place on the grass to watch the show.

Riza leaned her head on Olivier’s shoulder. Olivier wrapped her arm around Riza and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The fireworks began with a brilliant burst of green fading into a crackling gold starfall. Riza’s attention was repeatedly drawn down, watching the bursts of light dance in the stones on her finger.

* * *

When the fireworks display was finished, they returned home. Riza kept looking at her ring, which did not go unnoticed by Olivier, whose attention was usually focused on Riza when they were together. Olivier waited until they were undressing for bed to ask after it.

“Do you like it?”

Riza pulled off her shirt and looked at the ring again. “Yes. It’s very beautiful.”

“It’s been in the family for generations.” Olivier explained as she stripped down.

“Is there anything in your family that isn’t an heirloom?” Riza joked.

Olivier shrugged. “Maybe the silverware.”

Riza wasn’t quite sure if it was a joke or not. She climbed into the large four poster bed and watched Olivier as she crossed the room to join her. There was just something about the way her muscles moved that drove Riza crazy.

Olivier slid into bed next to her, settling against her body. She placed a hand on Riza’s stomach and kissed at her neck, sweetly at first. But the feel and the smell of Riza and the pleasant humming it elicited from her spurred a fluttering in Olivier’s stomach and parts south.

Olivier moved to straddle Riza, grinding down as they kissed. Riza grabbed her by the hips. Olivier leaned back and took Riza’s hands. Lacing their fingers, she pushed Riza’s hands above her head and held them against the headboard. “I seem to recall that you were quite fond of this position.” Olivier purred.

Riza licked her lips, recalling the way her body sang the first time Olivier was on top of her. “I wasn’t the only one.”

Olivier grinned down at her. “No.” She touched her lips to Riza’s ear and whispered low. “You weren’t.” Olivier pressed her hips down as she traced the crook of Riza’s jaw with her tongue.

Riza groaned.

Olivier nipped at her earlobe and sat up. Riza saw those startling blue eyes sparkling with a familiar wolfish grin. “There was always something I had fantasized about when I was younger.”

Riza looked up at her with dark eyes. “What’s that?”

Olivier’s smile spread just a hint further. “Do you trust me?”

“Olivier.” Riza stopped. “I just agreed to marry you. Yes, I trust you implicitly.”

Olivier’s grin spread wickedly across her face before she got up from the bed. She crossed the room to her vanity and pulled a pair of long ribbons from over the mirror. Olivier returned, slowly settling herself astride Riza. Gently, she took Riza’s hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the palm. She reached out and pinned her wrist against the poster of the bed frame. Olivier kept eye contact with Riza, but received no sign of protest. She smiled to herself and tied Riza’s wrist in place. Olivier took her other hand and kissed up Riza’s arm to her palm. Running her fingers over the band of her engagement ring, Olivier smiled. She held Riza’s hand in place and tied off the ribbon.

Olivier put her hands around Riza’s sides. “You are entirely at my mercy.”

Riza lifted her chin and stared Olivier in the eyes. “I always was.”

Olivier grabbed Riza by the jaw and pushed her head to the side, exposing her neck. Riza gasped fading into a moan. Olivier leaned close, her lips against the throbbing pulse in Riza’s neck. Slowly, she sank her teeth into Riza’s throat.

Riza instinctually tried to hold Olivier; her arms pulled against her restraints. She groaned in frustration and Olivier laughed against her ear.

“As much as I enjoy your touch on my body, there is definitely something to you being so utterly helpless to my will.”

Riza smiled, groaning softly. She licked her lips and spoke with hushed breath, “Do what you want with me.”

Olivier growled with pleasure. She nipped along Riza’s jawline, jerking her head back the other way to bite up the opposite side. Olivier flicked her tongue against Riza’s ear, her hot breath cooling the wet skin. Riza groaned, writhing her hips beneath Olivier.

Olivier purred and sank her teeth into Riza’s shoulder. Riza cried out and pulled against the bindings, trying to grip into Olivier’s back. Pleased with her efforts, Olivier moved down Riza’s body. She nipped sharp pinches along Riza’s collarbone, Riza gasping with each bite. Olivier ran her fingertips along Riza’s ribs, feathering over the most sensitive spots. Olivier kissed along the curve of Riza’s breast, taking a painfully long time to take her nipple between her lips. Olivier slid her arm beneath Riza, lifting her body against her mouth. She sucked, fluttering her tongue against Riza’s flesh.

Riza lost herself in the wet heat of Olivier’s mouth.

Then it was gone. Riza looked up to see Olivier grinning villainously at her with a cocked eyebrow.

“I just had an idea.” Olivier rolled off the bed and pulled on her robe. “I’ll be right back.” Olivier smirked over her shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere.” She disappeared out the door.

Riza flexed, pulling at the ribbons, but there was no undoing Olivier’s knots. She sighed.

It seemed a long time before Olivier returned, humming quietly to herself. She had a jar in one hand and a spoon in the other.

“I am not amused.” Riza stared her down.

Olivier disrobed and resumed her position over Riza’s thighs. “I will make it up to you.”

Riza was annoyed and frustratingly riled up. Olivier licked her lips and opened the jar. A familiar sweet smell filled the air and Olivier laughed as Riza’s eyes dilated.

“Still upset?” Olivier dipped the spoon and drizzled a small circle of honey around Riza’s nipple.

Riza’s voice failed; she shook her head. Olivier leaned down and lapped the honey off her skin.

“Fuck.” Riza’s voice returned.

“It’s quite delicious. Would you like a taste?” Olivier scooped a small bit on the end of the spoon.

“Yes, please.” Riza offered her lip.

Olivier let a few drops fall into Riza’s mouth before getting some on her lip. Riza went to lick it off; Olivier raised an eyebrow and she stopped. Ever so softly, Olivier kissed Riza’s lip, running her tongue along the shape of it before taking it into her mouth.

“More?” Olivier asked.

Riza nodded, her mouth slack. Olivier again gave her a small taste before dripping onto her lip. Riza made no move to clean it off. Olivier caressed Riza’s lip with her tongue. Riza wanted so much to just grab her by the back of the head and take her mouth, but restrained as she was, all she could do was pant with desire against Olivier’s mouth as she played her game.

“I think that’s enough for now. There are other appetites that need to be sated.” Olivier purred as she dropped a large bead of honey on Riza’s nipple, watching it slowly spread down and around. She wrapped her mouth around it and sucked, licking off the sweetness. Riza strained at the ties as she moaned. Olivier drizzled patterns curving across Riza’s chest, following close behind with her tongue. Riza seemed to enjoy her slowly sucking puddles off of her nipples, and Olivier was happy to oblige.

Riza gritted her teeth and bucked against Olivier, begging for release. Olivier dripped trails down Riza’s stomach, taking soft nibbles in her muscles as she worked her way down. Olivier capped the honey and scandalously licked the spoon clean. Riza swallowed hard, knowing exactly how good that tongue felt.

Olivier put the jar and the spoon on the bench at the foot of the bed and laid between Riza’s legs. “That was good, but there are sweeter things I’d like to eat.”

Riza shivered all over.

Olivier ran her hands over Riza’s thighs. “These are so lovely.” Olivier nipped at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Riza let out a small cry. “Strong, but soft—like you. And sensitive in just the right ways.” She spread Riza’s legs. Placing gentle kisses and deliberate heavy breaths, Olivier worked up one thigh and then the other.

Riza’s body was in knots. “Please, Olivier.” She begged.

Olivier laughed with delight. “Is there something you want, Riza?” She moved closer to the apex of her thighs.

Riza bucked her hips. “I need you to touch me.”

Olivier very slowly licked her lips. “I suppose you’ve been good and I can oblige you.” She dipped between Riza’s thighs. “Just promise me you’ll scream when you come.”

Riza sank into the bed. “You know I fucking will.”

“Good girl.” She whispered before pressing her lips against Riza.

Riza threw her head back against the pillow with a deep groan. Olivier grinned as she grazed the tip of her tongue across Riza’s clit. A whimper escaped Riza’s throat. Olivier flicked her tongue, just barely touching her. Riza balled her fists and pulled against her restraints. Olivier fluttered her tongue, adding pressure with each stroke until her lips were pressed firmly into Riza. Olivier indulged herself in Riza, enjoying the effect she had on her fiancée and the softness of her intimacy. She flitted her tongue to build Riza up until her thighs shook, before backing off to slow, steady strokes to bring her down again.

She coaxed Riza, three, four times to near orgasm. Olivier bobbed her head, lapping at Riza. Her thighs began to tremble again. Olivier recognized the subtle way they hummed and knew that Riza would not back down this time. She worked her tongue, circling Riza’s clit. Digging her fingertips into Riza’s thighs to hold them still as she threatened to clench tight around Olivier’s face. Her moan built as her body shook, roiling up until she screamed Olivier’s name as loud as she could, twisting against the soft ribbons at her wrists.

Olivier rested her cheek against Riza’s thigh while she recovered. She did so love watching Riza after she came. The mellow calmness of having given herself up entirely. Knowing that it was to her, for her. And now that it would only ever be for her. There was something so incredibly beautiful about the desperation of her physical body juxtaposed with the serenity of her spirit. It was the only thing Olivier wanted to spend her days giving to Riza. She laid between Riza’s legs, her arms over her thighs, and just stared at Riza, lost in her elegant allure.

Riza’s chest finally stopped heaving and her eyes were not so wild anymore. Olivier kissed the inside of her knee and climbed up her body to settle across her stomach. She undid the ribbons around Riza’s wrists.

“Slowly.” Olivier instructed her. Riza’s wrists were marked with red circles from her straining and pulling, rubbing against the fabric. Olivier ran her thumb carefully over the wound, kissing gently. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m not.” Riza responded, still somewhat breathless.

Olivier settled against her, resting her chin on Riza’s chest. “That was better than I had fantasized about as a young woman, but I do miss the way you bury your hand in my hair. Pushing me into you, begging for more and more of my tongue.”

Riza bucked her hips; Olivier chuckled low. Riza slowly ran her fingers up Olivier’s neck and into her hair. She gripped close to Olivier’s scalp and tugged gently to the side. Olivier gasped, her mouth just falling open.

“My turn to be in charge.” Riza’s eyes glittered.

Olivier chuffed with expectation. Riza held her grip as she pulled Olivier to the side and rolled on top of her. She kissed her deeply; Olivier’s lips were hot and soft and salty. Riza pulled back and jerked Olivier’s head back. She bit down on the meat of her shoulder and Olivier let out a howl. For as much as she loved to bite, Olivier seemed to like being bitten even more. Riza played Olivier’s ear, nibbling and licking, breathing just so against it. She could feel Olivier’s heart beat harder against her chest.

Riza sat up. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I have a few suggestions.” Olivier offered.

Riza put a finger to Olivier’s lips. “Ah ah. I’m in charge. Remember?”

Olivier’s eyes went dark with desire. “Yes, ma’am.”

Riza groaned, the tone of Olivier’s voice sending a shiver through her legs. She looked down at Olivier and rumbled low. “Get on your knees.”

Olivier grinned. Riza slid to the foot of the bed. Olivier rolled onto her stomach and pressed up onto her knees.

“Yes. That is lovely.” Riza ran her hand over the curve of Olivier’s ass.

Riza had intended for foreplay, to tease her as Olivier had done to her. To drag out the need until Olivier felt about to burst. But seeing Olivier on her knees, her wetness glistening in the low light, the tight muscles flexing subtly against her palm—she couldn’t wait. Riza dragged her nails up the inside of Olivier’s thigh, her fingertips between her legs. She gripped into Olivier’s hip and with a sharp tug back, thrust her fingers inside her.

Olivier cried out and pushed back into her. “Yes, Riza. Fuck me.”

Riza growled as she put her hips behind her hand. She pulled Olivier back as she pushed forward deep inside her. Olivier rocked back and forth, matching Riza’s thrusts. It felt so good to have Riza’s fingers inside her.

“I think you can take more than that.” Riza slid a third finger inside her.

Olivier moaned deep. “Fuck.”

Riza let go of Olivier’s hip and ran her hand over the thick muscles of her back, flexing as Olivier braced against Riza’s hips. Riza’s attention was pulled to her hand as the light glittered off her ring as Olivier’s body jolted forward and back against her hips.

Olivier moaned softly with each jerk against her body, Riza’s fingers sinking deeper inside her. Riza buried her hand in Olivier’s hair and grabbed at her scalp again. She pulled back as she thrust inside her. Olivier moaned loud.

“You like my hand in your hair? Gripping tight, giving you a tug there,” Riza pulled back to the left a little. “And a tug here.” She pulled back to the right, catching Olivier’s eye over her shoulder. She had a devilish smile and her eyes rolled closed as Riza jerked her hips and pulled back on her hair.

It wouldn’t take much for Olivier to come now, Riza could feel the fluttering tightness around her fingers. She rolled her wrist, turning her fingers inside Olivier. With an iron grip on her pale blonde hair and her thumb grazing Olivier’s clit with each thrust, it only took a moment before Olivier screamed a hoarse cry and her entire body fell loose. Riza let go of her hair and carefully pulled her fingers free.

Olivier muttered, “Fuck,” as she collapsed onto the mattress.

Riza stretched out on her back beside her and slid her arm under Olivier’s head. Olivier rested her cheek against Riza’s shoulder and threw her arm across Riza’s stomach. Riza held her tight. Olivier’s ragged breath steadied against Riza’s chest.

Olivier turned her head slightly and kissed Riza’s collarbone. “Are you as spent as I am?”

Riza smiled, her eyes already closed. “Absolutely.”

Olivier laughed and purred as she sank into Riza’s body. “Good night, my love.”

Riza kissed her forehead softly. “Good night, my Olivier.”

* * *

Olivier and Riza had worked out the basic details of the ceremony. Who they wanted involved and a rough estimate of when they would have it. Then they began the work of planning. There was plenty of time, but neither was the type to let things sit undone for long at all.

Olivier opened the door to Miles’ office and came to stand by his desk. “Miles. You’re going to be my best man.”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded with a smile.

Olivier returned to her office. Before shutting the door, she added. “Hawkeye will be by today, send her in when she arrives.”

“No problem.”

Riza came to see Olivier after lunch and Miles did as instructed. Olivier vacated her office, giving Riza privacy for the phone call she had to make. It would be painfully awkward, but maybe not. She remained ever optimistic. Riza picked up the receiver and waited a second.

“Yes, sir?” A communications officer answered.

Riza could tell by the deference in his voice that he thought she was Olivier. “It’s Lieutenant Hawkeye. I need to reach Colonel Mustang in East Command.”

“Yes, sir.” His voice had relaxed. “Give me just a second and I’ll get you connected.”

Riza waited patiently for Roy to be put through. She looked over the writing set on Olivier’s desk. There was a small patch on the top of the hawk’s head that was already slightly burnished. Riza smiled; Olivier liked to play it cool, but she was just as sentimental underneath that icy exterior.

“Lieutenant.” The comms officer’s voice came through the receiver again. “Colonel Mustang is on the line for you.”

“Thank you.” Riza said. “A private line, please.” She added.

“Understood, sir.”

There was a small click on the line and Riza knew they were alone. She had been practicing what to say all day, but in the moment her words escaped her.

“Hawkeye?” Roy asked.

“I’m here.”

“What did you need?” He had that tone in his voice when he was worried, but trying to hide it.

“I’m getting married, Roy.” She waited, knowing the process his mind would take to absorb that information.

“Congratulations, Hawkeye.” He sounded genuinely happy, but his voice was tinged with sadness.

“I want you to be my best man.”

“Of course. Anything you need, I’ll help however I can.” Roy promised.

His mind raced about who at Briggs Riza could be marrying. There were a lot of men in that fort. But Riza wouldn’t fall for just anyone. It was probably an officer, someone of outstanding caliber. That left a shorter list. It couldn’t possibly be Buccaneer, he refused to believe that. It had to be Major Miles, right?

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

Riza paused a second, the bullet stuck in her teeth. “Olivier.”

There was a sharp inhale and then utter silence.

Roy suddenly remembered running into General Armstrong outside Riza’s quarters. He’d been too upset at the time to think anything of it. Now it seemed apparent why she was lingering in the hall. He’d sat there and begged her to come back with him—for him—and she had already fallen for Olivier. Roy sighed deeply. No point in dwelling on it now.

“Roy?” Riza asked, concerned about the extended silence.

“Sorry. That is…a surprise.” Mustang’s heart was a maelstrom of sadness, anger, jealousy, and happiness. “She does right by you?”

“Yes.” Riza laughed to herself.

He could hear the smile in her voice. “She loves you?”

“Very much.”

“You love her?”

“More than anything.” Riza grinned.

Roy put a small part of himself away deep inside. “Then I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Roy. It means a lot.” She knew what it meant for him.

He smiled sorrowfully. “Of course.” He was quiet for a time. “Did she order your transfer—”

“No.” She cut him off before he could even say the words. “It just happened. It was a surprise to both of us, too.”

“Okay. Good.” He was neither of those things.

“We haven’t told anyone about the engagement yet, so please don’t say anything.”

“Mum’s the word.” His shoulders sank as he relaxed. His voice lowered. “Congratulations, Riza. Genuinely.”

“Thank you, Roy. We’ll send out invitations when we settle on a date. I’ll let you know when we decide on more details.”

“Just let me know if you need anything.”

“We will. Goodbye, Mustang.”

“Goodbye, Hawkeye.” He hung up the phone.

 _‘Olivier.’_ Roy snapped his fingers and his trash can caught fire.

Riza went to the door to Miles office. Olivier was standing by his desk engaged in a casual chat.

“Olivier.”

She immediately left Miles in the middle of their conversation to join Riza in her office.

Behind closed doors, Olivier asked, “How’d it go?” She came to stand near.

Riza leaned back against Olivier’s desk. “Good. It’ll take him some time to get used to it. He said yes, and that he’d help however he could. He also gave genuine congratulations to us. Made sure you treat me right.” She smiled at Olivier.

“Silly boy.” Olivier laughed dismissively. “As if you would allow otherwise.”

Riza pulled Olivier to her. “He’s just being a protective friend. He sees you as General Armstrong, the Ice Queen of Briggs.” She tucked a stray hair behind Olivier’s ear, looking into Olivier’s eyes with awe. In a soft voice, she continued. “He doesn’t see you like I do. He doesn’t see Olivier.”

Olivier slid one arm around Riza’s body, the other hand lingering suggestively low on her hip. Riza held her face as Olivier placed a kiss like scorching fire on her lips. She let it burn through her as long as Olivier was willing to indulge her.

Olivier pulled back. Riza stretched her arms out over Olivier’s shoulders, her hands resting against the muscles of her back.

“Speaking of seeing other sides of you.” Riza smiled at her. “I see that you’ve already polished a spot on this hawk.”

Olivier shrugged. “I touch it when I think of you.”

Riza grinned, a spark in her eyes. “Is that all you touch?”

Olivier chuckled. “You are awful.”

“In the best way.” Riza pulled her in for a kiss.

“I save that for you, by the way. I’ve been here alone long enough. I have no desire to take that from your hands.”

Riza licked her lips, a soft smile settling across them. “I like that.” She kissed Olivier, her hands sliding down to wrap around her waist. Riza waited until she felt Olivier lean into her body, a signal that she was truly relaxed. She pulled back from their kiss, holding tight around Olivier’s hips. “Now, are you going to call your brother?”

Olivier growled in her throat and she narrowed her eyes at Riza. Anyone else would have shriveled at such a glare from General Armstrong, but Riza never had. She held her ground; stubbornness was the only way to win out against Olivier when she was like this.

“No.”

“Olivier.”

This was not the first time they’d had this conversation. Olivier knew this was a war that she would not win. It was also a battle she wasn’t interested in handling yet. She loved her brother, she truly did. But she couldn’t forgive his transgression. Not to mention that he was always…like that. _‘You mean, an Armstrong?’_ She heard in Riza’s voice.

“Later.” Olivier deferred. She tried to move, to walk away.

Riza held her tight by the waist, a stern look in her eye. She knew she would win this argument, too. “Later.” She said it with a definitive tone; it was a promise.

* * *

Riza asked Olivier to accompany her in picking out her wedding dress. It was not how Olivier would have preferred to spend her time, but it was important to Riza, so she capitulated.

Riza had set up an appointment with a bridal shop in Central, so the two went down as soon as the winter snows had settled down and the spring warmth made travel from Briggs less difficult. It gave more than enough time for the seamstress to make any adjustments before the wedding. Riza napped most of the train ride with her head on Olivier’s shoulder.

When they neared Central City, Olivier patted her arm. “We’re about there, Riza.” She woke easily and kissed Olivier on the cheek before stretching.

Olivier had their family driver meet them at the train station to take them to the shop. “We’ll be here most of the day. I’ll call the house when we’re done.” She sent him on his way and came up beside Riza. She placed her hand at the small of Riza’s back as they entered. A bell above the door alerted the shop attendant and the girl came to the front counter.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

Riza smiled. “I have an appointment for a consultation—Riza Hawkeye.”

The girl checked a book on the counter. “Ah, yes.” She glanced up at Olivier, noticing the hand on Riza’s back and the air of quiet protection she carried for Riza. “And you must be the fiancée?”

“Yes.” Olivier answered politely.

Riza crooked a small smile at Olivier’s usual brevity. Olivier might be a little upset, but dropping her name would open up a lot of options for them. Riza cleared her throat and spoke softly. “Olivier Armstrong.”

Riza felt Olivier’s hand stiffen slightly against her back. But the girl’s eyes went wide with recognition. “I’ll let the owner know you’re here, ma’am." The girl disappeared into the back of the shop.

“Did you have to give them my name?” Olivier hated using her family name to throw weight around, she much preferred to do so only by her own reputation.

“It will get them to show us some nicer gowns because they know we can afford it. But, Olivier—the blonde hair, the blue eyes,” Riza twirled a finger around the end of Olivier’s hair. “The Armstrong curl.” She cupped Olivier’s cheek and smiled warmly. “You’re not subtle.”

Olivier growled under her breath. Riza kissed her gently.

The girl returned with an older woman. “Ms. Hawkeye, Ms. Armstrong, welcome. Come come, we will find you just the perfect dress.”

The woman led Riza and Olivier to a showroom in the back of the shop with bright lights and multiple mirrors. There was a chaise lounge to one side and a small dais in front of the mirrors. “Before we begin, is there anything you have in mind? Anything you want to avoid? A color palette or theme…”

Riza responded before she could add more options. “White, maybe with pale accents. Nothing backless.” Olivier had nothing to add, this was entirely Riza’s decision on what she wanted.

“Okay. I will put together some options and bring them right out.” She disappeared back into the shop.

Riza and Olivier were left alone. The room had a few mannequins with some simple dress options displayed. Riza moved from one to the next. “Do you like anything about any of these?”

Olivier glanced around, taking in the dresses. None of them struck her particularly. “They’re fine, but there’s nothing special about them.”

The attendant returned with a rack full of dresses. “I have some options for you. We can narrow down from your thoughts on these, if you need to see more.” She motioned to Olivier. “Are you going to stay? Or would you like to keep it a surprise for the big day?”

Riza responded before Olivier could speak. “I would like if she helped me with the dresses. In private.”

This was why Riza had been so insistent on Olivier’s company. Her back had become such a non-issue between them that Olivier barely remembered the tattoo and scars were a problem. The woman looked like she was about to object. Olivier stepped in, speaking in a voice that left no room for argument. “We would appreciate the privacy.”

“Mmm, yes. Okay. I will be just in the back. If you need anything, just call.” She exited the room.

“Thank you.” Riza said to Olivier.

Olivier smiled and waved it off. “Which dress would you like to start with?”

Riza looked through the rack. She pulled out one with a large tulle skirt. “Not this one.” Olivier took it and moved it to the back of the rack. “Not this.” Riza handed her one with long sleeves; they were beautiful, but it would be too hot for their spring ceremony. Olivier put it behind the other reject. “This one is nice.” Riza pulled out one with a high neckline and cap sleeves; it was simple, but elegant. Olivier took the dress and laid it out on the chaise while Riza undressed.

“We need to finalize who’s going to be in the wedding party.” Riza commented.

Olivier made a face, she knew what Riza was really getting at. “I’ve got Miles.”

“I’ll have Rebecca and Roy. You need to have two people.” Riza stepped into the dress.

Olivier carefully pulled it up around her. “I could get Buccaneer.”

“Olivier.”

She ignored Riza’s eye as she did up the back of the dress.

“He’s your brother.”

“What do you think of this one?” Olivier stepped back and looked at Riza in the mirror.

Riza ran her hands over the body of the dress. It looked lovely, but the neck was too high, even for her. “No, the neckline is uncomfortable.”

Olivier undid the back and helped Riza step out of it. She replaced it on the hanger; Riza looked through the other dresses. Olivier came up behind her, putting a hand on her back as she returned the dress to the rack.

Riza pulled out a sleeveless dress with a jewel neckline. The bodice had a roughly paisley pattern done in silver and white beads. “This is nice.” She handed it to Olivier. The sheath skirt was very tight to the body and Riza had to work her hips to get the material up. Olivier stood back to view the dress as a whole. It certainly fit very nicely across the hips.

Riza looked it over and made a disapproving face. “The skirt is too tight.”

“That’s a shame.” Olivier stepped up onto the dais to undo the back.

“Is it?” Riza looked at her in the mirror.

“I enjoy the way it fits on you. But it’s not my wedding dress.” Olivier slid the zipper down the back of the dress and, in a fluid motion, ran her hand over the curve of Riza’s butt.

Riza blushed. Clearing her throat, she broached the topic of Alex again. “Olivier. Your brother.”

She recognized the cast of Olivier’s face as the topic came up. It was the look Olivier got when her initial reaction was the type that had helped earn her the name ‘Ice Queen,’ but she didn’t let it out toward Riza.

“I don’t want him at my side, it’s bad enough he’s going to be there at all.”

Riza turned around to face her. “Olivier Armstrong, you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love your brother and I will never say another word about it.”

Olivier looked at her. Riza’s expression was angry, but her eyes looked soft, almost wounded. Olivier ground her teeth, stubbornly warring between her disdain for her brother’s weak cowardice and her love and respect for Riza. Riza held her gaze, unwavering. Olivier thought back on a childhood of shared memories, and sighed. “I do care about him.”

Riza put her hand on Olivier’s cheek. “You don’t have to like him, or what he did, to love him. You know how much it will mean to him to be at your side on your wedding day.” Riza brushed Olivier’s bangs behind her ear, holding her face between her hands. “Forgive him for one day, Olivier.”

Could she forgive him, even for a day? She loved her brother, but his failure on the battlefield was—in her eyes—unforgivable. To lose in battle is one thing; a loss at the hands of an enemy who simply outplayed you was respectable. But to fail by giving in to the weakness of foolish emotions; it was the epitome of cowardice. To put the lives of all his fellow soldiers at risk because of his own selfishness was the worst sin a soldier could commit. Choosing to allow his emotion to rule his actions on the battlefield could have been the mistake that got his platoon killed that day, could have gotten Riza killed in that battle. Olivier looked into her eyes. That stubborn, stern look in her warm brown eyes. No one looked at Olivier like that anymore; unafraid of the consequences, unafraid of her. There was a part of her that knew Riza was right, she would eventually regret not having her brother by her side. Ultimately, it came down to admitting Riza was right and letting Alex be with her or refusing to allow any ground toward her brother. She loved Riza more than she hated her brother’s weakness.

Olivier gave in. “Okay.”

Riza smiled and pulled her in for a deep kiss. Olivier wrapped her arms around Riza’s waist.

Riza leaned her forehead against Olivier’s. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

Olivier knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. “Turn around, I’ll help you out.”

Free of the dress, Riza went to look for another to try on. She pulled one with pale blue flowers sewn into the skirt that deepened in hue toward the end of the short train. “This is pretty.”

Olivier helped her get into it, doing up the innumerable hook and eye closures used on its bodice. The cap sleeves were a bit longer than those on the other dress, and the waist sat lower, framing her hips.

“This one is close.”

“Good.” Olivier undid the back and helped Riza out of it. She took a moment to rehook the closures.

Riza looked through the remaining dresses. “That’s all I like from this rack.” Riza pulled her shirt back on while Olivier called for the attendant.

The woman came back in. “Did we find something, yes?” She asked with a hopeful tone.

“No.” Olivier answered.

Riza came to her side. “There were some design elements I liked, but nothing that I liked overall.”

The woman smiled. “Okay, that I can work with! Tell me what you liked and I bet I can find just the right dress for you.”

Riza pointed to the dresses at the back of the rack and explained why they were rejected outright. She indicated the first dress she’d tried on. “I liked the cut of this one, but the neckline is too high.” Pointing out the second dress, “I really like the bodice on this dress, the way the beads catch the light and the soft pattern, but the skirt is far too tight.” Indicating the third dress she tried on, “This one is very close. I like the flowers and waistline.”

She thought for a moment. “Hmmm…” Her face lit up. “I think I have just the thing. Wait a moment, I will be right back.”

The woman disappeared into the back of the shop and was gone for quite a few minutes. Finally, she returned, carrying a single dress. She held it out for Riza. “I believe you will like this one.” She let Riza look over the fabric and design before hanging it on the rack. “I’ll give you a moment to get into it.”

The dress was sleeveless with a low scoop neckline and a basque waistline over a simple thin A line skirt. The bodice was covered in a brocade floral pattern in pale silver and white lame threads on blue so pale it was nearly white. The skirt was a smooth cool white satin with iridescent glass beads clustered around the hips, spreading down the back of the dress like water droplets.

Olivier helped her slip into the dress, hooking the eyelets up the back and smoothing down the fabric. Riza turned to look at herself in the mirror and her breath halted. The lustrous floral brocade pattern on the bodice caught the light just the right way, the skirt was loose, but not too large or full to be awkward. She looked at Olivier in the mirror, Riza’s warm smile and bright eyes broadcast her thoughts. “It’s perfect.”

Olivier stepped onto the dais. The neckline of the bodice sat low across Riza’s shoulders. Olivier traced her fingers over the exposed crescent of serpents’ tails that peaked the design on her back.

“Riza, it shows your tattoo.” She softly kissed a bit of burned skin. “And your scars.”

Riza stared at the dress in the mirror. Looking over the dress and at Olivier over her shoulder. She thought for a moment, processing her feelings. She met Olivier’s eyes in the reflection.

“It’s okay.”

* * *

Olivier put off speaking to her brother for another day. She sat at her desk. Riza by her side, leaning into her and draping her arm across Olivier’s shoulders.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Riza offered.

“No.” Olivier responded. She added, softer, “That would make it worse.” She wiped her hand across her face in pre-emptive exasperation. “He’s going to make this so difficult. He’s going to cry.”

Riza took her hand. “That’s okay.” She smiled sadly. “Someone in this world has to have a soft heart.” She brought Olivier’s hand to her lips. “I’ll be in our quarters. Take as much time as you need.”

Riza left Olivier alone in her office. She sat for a long moment before picking up the receiver.

Catherine answered. “Armstrong residence, how may I help you?”

“It’s Olivier. I need to speak with Alex.”

“Hi Olivier. Okay. I’ll go get him.” She placed the receiver on the table and went off to find their brother.

Olivier waited, imagining the look on her brother’s face when he heard she was calling for him.

After a long silence, there was a sound of movement on the other end and then Alex’s voice. “Hello? Olivier, is something wrong?”

“No. I’m calling because…” She sighed. “Because I’m getting married and I want you to be at my side.”

There was a sound like a mastodon screeching; Olivier yanked the phone back from her ear.

“Who’s the lucky man?” Alex asked in a high-pitched voice.

He knew damn well… “I believe you are acquainted with her: Lieutenant Hawkeye.”

Alex squealed. “She’s a lovely woman, sister.”

“Thank you.” Olivier smiled. “The ceremony will be at the house. Riza can give you the details.” Olivier could practically hear him beaming with pride and excitement.

Alex sniffed. “I thought you’d never find someone and you’d be alone. But you did find someone and she’s a wonderful girl and you’re going to be so,” He sobbed. “Happy.” He sobbed again, louder. “Together.” Open sobbing now.

Olivier rested the back of her hand holding the receiver against her forehead. This would only get worse when they saw him in person. She truly did love Riza.

“Alex!”

He drew a sharp breath and stopped bawling. From the sound, he was still crying, but held it back.

Olivier took a slow breath in. “You’re doing well?” She asked begrudgingly.

“Yes, sister. I’m good.”

“Good.” There was a long silence between them. “You can thank Riza for this.”

Alex let out a small laugh.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Olivier.”

She hung up.

Olivier made her way to their room, where she would absolutely find a reward for handling that waiting in their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter scene titles:  
> ~Armstrong estate  
> ~harvest festival  
> ~proposal  
> ~Olivier's old bedroom ;)  
> ~Riza calls Roy  
> ~dress shopping/ceremony talk  
> ~wedding party invites
> 
> Nothing remarkable about them for this chapter, but I've got some good ones for the next.
> 
> I fully believe that if that strength test scene happened in the anime/manga, Olivier would have knocked the bell clean off and it would have flown halfway across the city and smacked Al in the back of the head knocking his helmet down the street.
> 
> For anyone interested, this is [the ring](https://flic.kr/p/2k525x3).


	7. Time for a Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are y'all prepared to wrap up this story with some hardcore fluff and warm fuzzies?

Olivier and Riza arrived at the manor a few days before the wedding. It was late in the evening when their car pulled onto the grounds, so they retired for the night. There was still much work to be done for everything to be ready on the day of the ceremony.

Waking early the next morning, they made their way to the kitchen. Olivier pulled down mugs and collected the sugar and salt while Riza brewed coffee.

“Roy will be here this afternoon. He took an extra couple of days off.” Riza said, starting in on the wedding discussion.

Olivier nodded. “Miles will be here tomorrow.”

“So will Rebecca.” Riza added.

Catherine came into the kitchen and greeted them both. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. Would you like some coffee?” Riza offered.

“No, thank you. I prefer tea.” Catherine set a kettle to boil.

Olivier continued. “The flowers will be delivered tomorrow. Grandmother will be here to oversee that. The caterers will, of course, arrive the morning of.”

“The materials for setting up are being brought in today. They don’t have to be put up until the morning before the ceremony, but they should probably be checked and staged to avoid any problems last minute.” Riza went over the list of people coming in her head.

Catherine poured herself a cup and reached for the honey on the counter. “Oh, good.”

Her comment went unnoticed as the two women continued talking. Catherine sweetened her tea to taste and placed the spoon in the sink. She decided to leave them to their conversation, but turned back at the door.

“Olivier, if you’re going to use the honey for sex again, can you at least bring it back before morning?”

Olivier choked on her coffee. Riza’s eyes went wide as her cheeks blossomed bright red. She put a hand on Olivier’s back to check that she was okay.

Catherine flashed a brilliantly innocent smile; Riza could practically see diamonds glittering off her cherubic cheeks as she disappeared into the hall.

“Well, she’s definitely an Armstrong.” Riza commented.

Olivier set her mug down on the counter. “I am not comfortable with my baby sister knowing anything about my sex life.”

Riza leaned back against the counter. “Then you probably shouldn’t have brought it back down at ten thirty in the morning wearing just your robe and that smirk.”

“What smirk?” Olivier moved close.

“The one you get when you’re thinking about the really great sex we have.” Riza smiled.

Olivier leaned into Riza, pinning her in place with her arms. She purposefully thought back to the night after Riza accepted her proposal. Her eyes lit up and her lips curled into a salacious smirk.

Riza wrapped her arms around Olivier’s waist. “That’s the one.”

Olivier chuckled as she leaned in for a kiss.

“Good morning, sister!” Alex’s voice boomed as he entered the room.

Olivier jerked back from the kiss. Riza recognized the lightning flash in her eyes and gripped at her waist. “Be nice,” she whispered before letting go.

Olivier took a deep breath before responding. “Good morning, Alex.” She leaned back against the counter beside Riza.

“Is there anything you need help handling today?” Alex inquired.

“No. we have everything under control.” Olivier responded.

“Roy is coming today. But everyone else will be arriving tomorrow.” Riza added. She gently nudged Olivier.

Olivier sighed, knowing exactly what Riza meant. “It would be helpful if you oversaw the offloading of the chairs and decorations when they arrive.”

Alex beamed. “I would be utterly delighted to assist.”

“Thank you, Alex.” Riza smiled at him. She gave Olivier a kiss on the cheek and whispered for only her to hear. “Thank you.”

Olivier nudged her head against Riza’s forehead in acknowledgement.

Alex grinned behind his mustache. He’d never seen his sister be truly affectionate. “Will you be staying at the house today?”

Riza nodded. “I’ll be here to greet Roy, spend some time catching up, and make sure he gets settled. I’ll probably be working on my vows in the evening.”

“Yes. I need to finish mine as well.” Olivier added.

Alex nodded.

Olivier gave him a pointed look. “Why are you asking?”

“I was just curious.” He answered innocently.

Riza pushed off the counter. “Olivier, would you like some breakfast? Bacon, eggs, maybe some toast?” She asked, purposefully trying to redirect the conversation.

“That sounds lovely.” Olivier replied.

“Alex?” Riza offered.

“Yes. I’ll get the eggs.” He made for the fridge.

Olivier watched as two very disparate parts of her life coalesced. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to have Alex around, he certainly made Riza smile. And after all, that was her favorite thing in the world.

* * *

Roy’s cab pulled up to the gate at Armstrong manor in the early afternoon. He paid the driver and sent him off.

“Mr. Mustang?” A man stepped from behind the wall on the other side of the iron gate. He was a little older than Roy, shorter, and thicker. His eyes were welcoming, but stern.

“Yes.”

The man unlocked the gate and swung it open for Roy. “Ms. Hawkeye said you’d be here soon. She’s waiting for you inside, I believe.”

Roy wondered at how little effort the servant had expended to move the large metal gate. It must have been quite heavy, but it moved silently with surprising ease.

“Thank you.” He smiled.

“I can take your bag, sir, if you want. I can have it sent up to your room in the house.” He offered.

“Oh. All right.” Roy handed off the small bag he’d packed for the stay. “Thank you, again.”

“Not a problem, sir.” He smiled genially.

Roy walked through the gate and past the servant. He stopped and turned back. “The Armstrongs, they treat you well?” You could tell a lot about a person from the way they treated the people who serve them.

The man looked at Mustang with an odd expression, like it was strange that he’d even ask. “Yes. They take good care of all of us. We’ve all worked for them for many years.”

“And Olivier?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t here before she left the manor. But no one’s ever said anything about her treatment. I’ve only spoken with her a handful of times; she’s always been polite.”

Roy nodded. “Thank you. Have a good day.”

“You as well, Mr. Mustang.”

Roy headed for the house, taking the time to appreciate the grounds. The wind was pleasantly strong and it carried pink and white petals from the trees around the property. As he walked past the fountain, his attention was caught by a small green frog on the edge of the pool. Startled by his presence, it hopped into the water and frantically swam away from him.

“Roy!” Riza called from the top of the stairs.

Mustang looked up to see her coming down the steps to meet him.

“I’m glad to see you.” She smiled at him.

“I’m glad to see you too, Riza.” He held out his hand, but—in an unusual show of affection—she gave him a quick hug instead.

“I’ve got some tea brewing; it should be ready. Olivier’s favorite, it’s delicious.”

Riza led Roy through the house to a patio off the dining room. There was a small metal table with a couple chairs. They looked old, but well cared for. Roy took the closer chair.

“I’ll be right back.” Riza disappeared into the house and returned shortly with a tray hosting the tea and a small plate of cookies.

It certainly smelled good. Roy took a sip; it was indeed delicious. He smiled to himself, Olivier definitely had good taste. He looked across the table at Riza. She was staring out over the impressive grounds, watching the trees tremble in the breeze.

“So, you’re finally taking the plunge?” Roy broke the silence.

Riza smiled at Roy. “Yes.”

He could see it in her eyes. They never lit up for anything like that before. Maybe—a long, long time ago—he’d seen something close to it when she’d looked at him. But not like that. Roy looked down at her hand around the tea cup. “Quite a ring you got.”

Riza blushed slightly, the show of wealth a bit much for her taste. “It’s apparently an heirloom.”

Mustang smiled at her. “It’s beautiful, Riza. How’d she ask?”

“We spent the day at the harvest festival.” Riza blushed as she told him the story, self-conscious of the spectacle of it. “She’d paid to have it spelled out in the hay maze, and made sure we got a private car on the Ferris wheel to get a good view.”

Roy chuffed. Dramatic, over the top, passionate—that was the Armstrongs for you.

“It’s funny though. She proposed on what she thought was our anniversary, but it was three months early.”

Roy gave her a quizzical look. “How did you not have the same date?”

It felt awful to say, but if he didn’t know at this point, Riza couldn’t help him. “Our anniversary is the day we slept together for the first time. She says it’s earlier.”

Roy blinked slowly and looked a little like he might have had a stroke.

Riza gave him a moment, hiding a small chuckle behind her cup.

Eventually, Mustang marshaled himself. “What happened the three months in between?”

“She came to see me a lot. We had coffee together in the morning, and tea most evenings.”

“Did she kiss you?”

“Yes. She kissed me when I showed her my back. That was when I realized she loved me.”

Roy stared at her for a moment. “Riza.” He put a hand up in astonishment. “You showed her your back?”

“Yes.”

“And she kissed you? And you knew from that kiss that she was in love with you?” Mustang fought to keep his composure.

“Yes.” Riza furrowed her brow.

“And you think you weren’t together yet?”

Riza looked at Roy and her brow slowly smoothed. Her gaze drifted off into the distance. “Damn.”

Roy nearly fell out of his chair with laughter.

* * *

Olivier chose to give Riza the chance to meet and catch up with Mustang by herself. It would be best for both of them if she wasn’t there. Instead, she used her time to take advantage of the antique sofa in her bedroom to have some time alone. She spent the afternoon reading while her mind passively tumbled over the rough ideas she had for her vows.

“Olivier, you were right.” Riza blurted out as she entered, closing the door behind her.

Olivier looked up from her book. “I usually am. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Our anniversary.” Riza sat next to her fiancée and held her hand.

Olivier set the book aside, giving Riza her full attention.

“I was talking with Roy and I realized you were right. We were together and I didn’t even know it. You should have said something.”

“I genuinely thought you knew. I saw you first thing every morning, Riza. You told Mustang you’d found something more important than him and his mission; I believed that meant me.”

“It did.” Riza rubbed her thumb over Olivier’s knuckles. “I just wasn’t sure where we stood.”

Olivier brought Riza’s hand to her lips and kissed her palm. “I assumed it was obvious.”

“Olivier, you waited three months to have sex with me.”

“I was being polite! I thought my intentions were known and I was letting you decide when you were ready. Then I saw your back and I thought that was why you were apprehensive. I let you take as much as time as you needed. I had already overstepped once, I wasn’t going to repeat that mistake.”

Riza sighed and let go of Olivier’s hand. “That wasn’t an overstep.” She pulled up her skirt and moved to straddle Olivier’s lap, draping her arms over her shoulders.

Olivier ran her hands up Riza’s sides and over her back, purring deep in her throat. “It wasn’t?” She slid forward on the deep cushion, bringing her body closer to Riza.

She pressed against Olivier. “It absolutely was not.” Riza dipped her head to kiss her. “I wish I’d have known. I would have kissed you so much more.”

Olivier traced her fingers over Riza’s bare thigh. She pressed her lips against the skin just below Riza’s ear. “You were worth the wait.” She slipped her hand between Riza’s legs, brushing her knuckles against the fabric between them. Riza pressed into her touch. Olivier dug her teeth into Riza’s neck.

“Olivier Armstrong, if you give me a hickey the day before our wedding.” She let the threat hang in the air.

Olivier chuckled low and settled for kissing the warm skin. “Yes, ma’am.”

She ran her knuckles against Riza until she let out a small moan. Olivier moved the singular obstacle between them and touched Riza’s hot flesh.

Riza gripped the back of the sofa as Olivier brushed her clit, almost teasingly soft. Riza’s hips rolled slightly.

Olivier held her hand against the center of Riza’s back, letting her fingers glide against Riza’s wetness. She felt so hungry, more desperate with each forward roll of her hips. Olivier kissed her throat; Riza lifted her chin. Olivier growled softly as she carefully nipped at the exposed skin.

“Please.” Riza whispered.

Olivier grinned and slid her fingers inside Riza.

Riza moaned and sunk her hips down, inviting Olivier’s touch as deep as possible. She looked down to see her fiancée’s eyes as she rode her fingers, watching the blue darken with desire in a way that she only showed for Riza.

Olivier shifted slightly and Riza’s clit brushed the meat of her palm as she pressed down. Riza let out a moan. She grabbed the back of Olivier’s head and pulled her in for a desperate kiss.

Olivier could feel the familiar tightness building in her. Riza ground down against Olivier harder and faster, the tension in her reaching a peak.

Riza cried into Olivier’s kiss as she came.

She pulled back from Olivier’s lips, her breath heavy.

Olivier looked up at her with lustful eyes and that self-satisfied smile Riza found irresistible.

Riza held Olivier’s head in her hands and tilted her face up to meet her lips. “I love you, Olivier.”

Before Olivier could respond in kind, Riza claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss.

* * *

Riza set out to find a quiet spot to work on her vows while Olivier did the same in their room. In one of the numerous guest suites, she found—among an assortment of fine furniture—a beautiful antique writing desk. Turning on the lamp, she settled into the leather-covered chair and began going over her words.

The late afternoon stretched into evening as she tried to find the best way to express her feelings. Riza lost herself in thought in the quiet of the room.

The door burst open with a crash and Riza nearly jumped out of her chair.

“Riza!” Alex filled the doorway, holding aloft a book. “I found it!”

“Found what?” Riza calmed.

Alex came closer and held the book out in front of him with both hands. The words ‘Family Album’ were embossed in gold and surrounded by filigree.

“Olivier’s photo album.”

Riza couldn’t resist. How adorable had baby Olivier been? She sat with Alex on the nearby chaise and he spread the album out across his knees. The first page had pictures of their mother in progressive stages of her first pregnancy.

Alex turned the page and there was newborn Olivier Mira Armstrong. Her striking blue eyes were faded in the old photo, but were big and bright. Her platinum blonde hair wasn’t nearly as long, but she had a full head of it. The trademark Armstrong curl threatened to cover her right eye.

“Oh, she’s adorable”

“I know!” Alex was already getting wispy-eyed.

Riza pulled the album onto her lap to look more closely. By her first birthday, Olivier already looked like herself, just much smaller. Her features were softer, her cheeks rounder, but she was always Olivier.

Riza flipped through. There were pictures of Olivier playing by herself and then with her sisters. There were many of her with Alex. She was so small, but already had everything that made her ‘Olivier.’

Riza laughed out loud at a picture of young Olivier suplexing an already much larger than herself Alex.

Alex was openly—though quietly—crying, unable to control his emotions.

“Alex Louis Armstrong!” Olivier roared from the doorway.

Riza looked up to see Olivier with one hand holding the door open and the other clenching into a tight fist at her side. Her cold eyes were fixed on her brother. If looks alone could kill, Alex would have been done for several times over.

He made a small mouse-like squeak. “Yes, sister?”

Riza closed the album and set it on the cushion beside her before crossing the room. “Olivier.” Her voice was low and soft in a way that politely demanded Olivier’s attention.

She turned her gaze from her brother to her soon-to-be wife, her eyes already softened.

Riza brushed her cheek gently. “Be nice.” She softly touched her lips to Olivier’s.

Just like that, the fire in Olivier’s eyes was dowsed and replaced by a much deeper one.

Riza chuckled low. “Would you like to join us? You were far too adorable for me to not look through these photos.”

Olivier sighed, but her lips quirked up at the corners ever-so-slightly. “If you insist.”

“I do.” She smiled.

Olivier sat with Riza as she resumed her seat next to a wide-eyed Alex, who was awed into silence.

Riza opened the album again. “You were always like this?”

“Is there a problem?” Olivier glared at her with steely eyes.

Riza laughed and patted Olivier’s thigh. “No. it’s just cute. You’re cute, and you always were. You were always ‘you.’ Confident in who you are, even so young. It’s sweet.”

Olivier couldn’t help but smile at her. She gave a small shrug in response.

Riza leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

Olivier could see her brother behind Riza fighting to hold himself together.

“Go ahead, Alex.” She sighed.

Alex burst into howling tears and enveloped the two of them in a hug as he extolled his excitement and joy in nigh indistinguishable sobs.

Olivier stared at Riza, speaking through a look; _‘Do you know how much I love you?’_

Riza gave her answer with a soft smile and the warmest eyes. _‘Yes.’_

* * *

Olivier sat in bed reading, unable to quite settle her mind for sleep. The low light from the lamp on the nightstand cast a warm glow across Riza’s naked body in the bed beside her. Riza was stretched out on her stomach, one arm draped over Olivier’s hips. Olivier surveyed the muscles of her back.

Closing the book, she set it on the nightstand. Gently, she reached out to brush the long blonde hair off to the side. She idly traced along the lines of Riza’s tattoo. Her fingers grazed over a patch of scarred skin; Riza didn’t react. Olivier pressed her hand against the reddened skin, a small part of her always expecting it to still be hot after all these years.

“Riza.”

“Hmm?” Riza responded, her voice thick with sleep.

“Why did you show me your back when you didn’t even think we were together?” Olivier stroked the soft bare skin, quietly indulging in the feel of Riza’s lean muscle.

“I trusted you.” Riza hugged Olivier’s hip. “I was right.”

There was a pause Olivier was content to let linger, but Riza broke the silence with a sleepy voice. “Why are you worried about it? You were already in love with me at the time.”

“What? How do you know?”

Riza smiled in her drowse. “The way you kissed me. I knew you loved me. I knew I was safe with you.”

Olivier blushed. Was this a conversation Riza would remember in the morning? She stroked Riza’s cheek. “You’re always safe with me.”

Riza kissed Olivier’s side. “I know.”

Olivier hummed a smile and settled down for sleep. Tomorrow was their wedding day and they both needed to be well-rested. She wasn’t nervous at all about the decision she was making or the oath she’d be swearing; she was worried about how smoothly it would go. Things rarely went as expected, but she would have to control it as much as possible.

* * *

It was Olivier’s responsibility, with Miles’ help, to make sure everything was going to plan outside while Rebecca and Mustang tended to Riza. It was nerve-wracking for Olivier, who was used to a particular level of precision that was very sorely lacking. Alex was handling guests, which thankfully kept him out of her hair on a day when both their emotions would be running high. Miles was in the house, making sure the caterers were on schedule for the reception.

She had been specifically banished from her family home while Riza was getting ready. So, Olivier did her best to control the preparations on the grounds. She surveyed the work from the terrace.

A privacy fence was being erected in the back, with flowers laced between the slats. Some of the design staff rolled out the satin aisle runner while others were hustling to set up chairs on either side of it. The archway under which they were to be married was up in front of the fountain and the photographer was framing up the best angle against the fountain in the background.

Black Hayate ran up the stairs to the house, followed by Elicia in her lavender dress, followed by Hughes in a suit with his tie still undone. Hayate ran inside, pursuers in tow: he was officially Mustang’s responsibility.

Olivier returned her attention to the work below. Her grandmother stood on a stepladder by the archway, making sure every vine and flower was perfectly placed. The entire yard smelled florally sweet. The fact that it wasn’t overwhelming was a testament to her grandmother’s skill. Being beautiful was lovely, but it didn’t matter much if Olivier and half the guests had a headache because of it. The musicians were taking their places and warming up their instruments—producing a frustrating cacophony of noise.

“General.” It was Miles’ smooth voice. “Riza is finished. It’s time for you to get ready.”

Olivier nodded and turned to go inside. Mustang stood in the hall outside the drawing room door, presumably standing guard while Rebecca helped Riza dress. She had to admit that he did look rather dashing in his tailcoat tuxedo with his hair slicked back. Olivier inclined her head in his direction; he had actually been fairly helpful with Riza’s responsibilities.

Miles fell into his usual position behind Olivier and followed her into the parlour, which had been assigned to be Olivier’s dressing room for the ceremony. Riza had offered for Rebecca or Maria or even Winry to help her get ready. Olivier had refused, insisting she would be fine on her own, and allowing only Miles if she needed a second pair of hands. A screen had been set up in the back corner of the room for Olivier to change behind.

Miles took a seat as far from it as possible. “I’ll be right here if you need any help.”

“Thank you, Miles.” Olivier stepped behind the large dressing screen. Carefully hung on a valet was her dress uniform.

She pulled on the oxblood pants and black undershirt. Sliding on the belt with ease, she attached the ornamented frog at her hip. The dark blue coatee with its knee-length tails took a bit more work, given the numerous double-breasted bands across the chest—but it looked so elegant once it was on. The golden aiguillettes shimmered in the light as she fashioned them under her arm. Olivier sat to pull on the tall black boots, polished to a near mirror finish. She carefully affixed her medals to the left side of her chest. With a sense of finality, Olivier slid her sabre into its sheath. She checked her makeup in the mirror behind the wet bar and straightened her hair before stepping out from behind the screen.

Miles grinned. “You look damn good, sir.”

She nodded approvingly at him and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Olivier came out onto the terrace. The guests were congregated in small groups. Mustang, Rebecca, and Alex were milling about in front of the fountain. Riza was hidden away from view behind the flower-covered fence.

Miles came down and joined the rest of the wedding party. The three of them looked up to see her and they all stared at the spectacle of Olivier dressed in her finery.

Olivier came to speak with Rebecca. “Is everything ready?”

Rebecca smiled broad. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Is she ready?” Olivier asked, a tinge of nerves creeping in at the edges.

Rebecca looked toward the flower-covered fencing behind which Riza waited, and caught Hughes’ attention. She held up her arm with a questioning thumb in the air.

Maes leaned over toward the fence. After a moment, he held up his hand in the affirmative. Rebecca turned back to Olivier, her grin spread from ear to ear now. “Yes, she is.”

Olivier reached up and grabbed Alex by the lapel, yanking him down to her level. “If you ruin my wedding with your obstreperous blubbering, I will kick your ass from here to Briggs and back.”

He gulped audibly, stammering a reply. “Uh, y-yes, Olivier.”

“Good.” She released his tuxedo. “All right, no use waiting around.” Olivier took her place under the floral arch.

General Grumman stood as officiant. With a nod to the musicians, the music started. They played a short theme to allow the guests to settle and find their seats. They finished and began the ceremonial music.

Maes sent Elicia and Hayate down the aisle before quietly dashing for his seat. Elicia walked mostly straight down the white satin runner of the aisle.

Elicia tossed multicolored flower petals along the aisle. Hayate walked proudly with his head high, holding a wooden box in his mouth. At the end of the aisle, he sat to the right of Grumman and Elicia settled into a small chair on the left.

Riza was next.

Olivier held her breath.

Riza stepped out from behind the fence and began her progression to the altar.

Olivier’s mouth fell open. The dress had been tailored and now looked even better on her. Riza’s long hair was fashioned into very loose curls with braids starting at her temples and joining in the back with flowers woven throughout. She looked absolutely stunning.

Riza approached with a smile on her face. She had not seen Olivier in her uniform and the sight was positively breathtaking.

“You look beautiful.” Olivier whispered when Riza was close enough.

“So do you.” Riza whispered back.

Riza took her place opposite Olivier. Grumman glanced between the two of them, observing the way they looked at each other—completely enraptured and oblivious to the world. Satisfied that his granddaughter was making the right decision, he began in on his unnecessarily long-winded oration about love and duty and commitment.

Grumman’s speech turned to white noise droning in Roy’s ear—his eyes glued to Riza’s back. Plainly exposed above the neckline of the bodice, peeking out from beneath her warm blonde locks was the secret she’d guarded so closely for nearly a decade. There it was, on display to everyone important in Riza’s life. If there had been any doubts skulking about in the darkest corners of Roy’s mind about their relationship, they could not stand up to the stark truth of what lie before him. Mustang sighed, Olivier had managed to do something that no one ever had, that he never could: make Riza feel safe in her own skin. Riza had never really been his, but she was absolutely Olivier’s.

Grumman raised his voice, pulling Roy from his reverie. “Hayate, the rings please.” Black Hayate raised his head and let Grumman take the box from his mouth. Grumman held out the opened box and they each took a ring.

Olivier placed her left hand in Riza’s outstretched palm. She took a breath to steady herself.

“I was resigned to a life of solitude, content to be the Ice Queen of the frozen Northern Wall, but your warm heart and tender soul melted my defenses and made me long for more. Riza, you have shown me that mercy and kindness are not weakness, but a different kind of strength. That patience is as important as ferocity. That love—true love and passion—is never a mistake. That showing affection and vulnerability is not cowardice, but the highest form of bravery. You make me a stronger person, a better person. I owe you a debt that I can only strive to repay with the years I have left in me.”

She paused, taking a breath of respect for the austerity of her next words. “Upon my honor, I swear to fight for and with you, to trust, protect—and above all else—to love you, Riza Hawkeye, from now until the moment of my death."

Riza smiled, her eyes shimmering with tears she fought to hold in. “I accept your oath.” She slid Olivier’s gold ring on her finger.

Riza laid her hand in Olivier’s.

“I wanted to believe in a future where everyone could live in happiness. It felt like a foolish, childish hope. One not meant for me. I used to think that in a just world, we’d no longer be in it. You are proof that it’s not unreasonable to wish for happiness. You’ve shown me there is something in this world worth living for beyond trying to better it for those that come after us. You showed me that I have to live for myself; that my path and my future mattered. That the things we’ve done don’t have to define our fates. We may not deserve happiness and peace, but we’ve found it. And I refuse to let it go. I promise to protect you and defend you, to fight with and for you, to trust and advise you, to better you as you have bettered me. And above all else, I promise to love you—Olivier Mira Armstrong—with everything I have, from now until the moment of my death.”

Olivier’s voice was thick with emotion as she replied, “I accept your oath.” She slipped Riza’s platinum band onto her finger.

Grumman grinned wide under his mustache. “You may now seal your oaths with a kiss.”

Riza put a hand on Olivier’s cheek as she leaned in. There was a wicked spark in Olivier’s eyes.

Olivier grabbed Riza by the waist and dipped her low. She flashed a dazzling smile as Riza grinned up at her. Olivier kissed Riza deep and slow.

The flash went off as the photographer seized the perfect opportunity.

* * *

The servants hustled to get the tables set up for the reception. The wedding party were given a table in front of the main stairs, the guests at tables along the sides. It left an area in the center open for dancing.

Olivier stood by the fountain, keeping an eye on the work and one on Riza, who was with Winry and the Elrics.

Roy walked up to her and extended his arm. “Congratulations.” Olivier took his hand. “I guess the better person won.”

Olivier tightened her grip, pinning him with her icy gaze. “Won what?”

Roy winced at the handshake. “Hawkeye.”

Olivier held him in place. “Maybe that was part of the problem, Mustang. Treating her like a prize to be won, not a woman whose affection must be earned.” She released his hand.

Roy shook out his fingers and cringed. “Maybe.”

Olivier slapped him on the shoulder, much harder than was necessary. “I owe you thanks, though.” She begrudgingly admitted.

“For what?” Mustang asked, thoroughly confused. He fought to hide the discomfort of the pain in his shoulder.

“Riza joined the military to keep your dumb ass alive. I can’t say our paths would have crossed otherwise.”

Roy’s face fell. “Ah. You’re welcome, I guess.”

Olivier flashed a wicked smile. “And Mustang.” She made sure she had his full attention. “It’s Lieutenant Armstrong now.”

Roy’s ego collapsed. He smiled politely. “I’ll remember that.”

Mustang wandered over to give Riza his congratulations. Winry prodded Ed toward Olivier with a stubborn look. Al followed sheepishly behind them, his armor clanging against the cobblestones.

Ed came up to her, scratching at his head awkwardly. “Uh, congratulations General.”

“Yes, congratulations. Riza is a wonderful person. You’re very lucky to have her. It was a delightful ceremony.” Alphonse’s response to nervousness was apparently much different than his brother’s.

Winry smiled at Olivier. “My congratulations. I wish you both the best happiness in life.”

“Yeah.” Ed threw in. “I never thought you’d ever get married, especially to someone as nice as Riza.”

Olivier narrowed her eyes, glaring at him with a cold look. “Excuse me?”

“Brother, no.”

Ed swallowed hard and tugged at his collar.

Winry sighed. “He just means that Riza is a lovely woman and we’re all very happy for you.”

Riza caught Olivier’s eye over Ed’s shoulder. Her face was warm and kind, her eyes sympathetic for Olivier and silently asking her patience with the boy. Olivier sighed.

“Thank you, Winry, Elrics. If you’ll excuse me.” She extricated herself from the conversation. As she walked away, she heard Winry chastise Ed.

“What is wrong with you?” Winry fussed.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be nice. She’s so scary.”

The caterers brought out the food and everyone settled into their seats. Meals were served and wine was poured. A bottle of champagne was set on the table in front of Olivier.

She stood, picking up the bottle, and cleared her throat. “What’s a celebration without some champagne?”

Olivier removed the cage from the cork. Pointing the bottle away, she turned it in her hand until the seam was facing up. Aiming the cork out toward the fountain, Olivier carefully drew her sabre. With a playful wink over her shoulder at Riza, she slid the back of her sabre along the curve of the neck to smack against the lip of the bottle.

A loud pop sent the cork flying out onto the grounds beyond the party. The bottle had a smooth, clean cut around the throat and Olivier managed to lose almost none of its contents. She poured the first glass into her own flute, taking the risk upon herself, before serving her wife and the rest of the wedding party.

Before anyone could begin on their meals, Miles rose for a speech. “Since we’ve all got some champagne, I’d say now is the time for a toast.” He waited for the crowd’s attention. “It’s been many years since I met General Armstrong. In the time I’ve been privileged to serve under her, she has earned my unyielding respect. No one commands the loyalty and regard from her men that she does.”

“Thank you.” She said quietly.

“I haven’t known Riza nearly as long, but in the time I have, she has earned just as much respect. She has a kind soul and a warm heart. But she’ll still kick your ass if she needs to. And you’ll thank her for it.”

Mustang’s men laughed, most having been on the receiving end at least once.

Miles looked at Olivier and Riza. “You compliment one another perfectly, pushing each other to be even better versions of yourselves—which are already pretty damn good. To the best women I know, to the best soldiers I know, to the only two people I’d follow blindly into battle without hesitation. To two women whose love and loyalty knows no depth. To the queens of the Northern Wall. May prosperity and joy ever find you.”

The guests cheered and the sound of clinking glasses surrounded them.

Olivier looked at Riza, “To the best soldier I know.”

Riza touched her glass to Olivier’s. “To the best woman I know. May prosperity and joy ever find you.”

Olivier smiled at her. “They already have.”

They ate and dispersed again to socialize. Free of the restrictions of pomp and ceremony, and availing themselves of the open bar, a lighter mood circulated around the relatively small group of guests.

Havoc sauntered up to Maria and offered her a lowball glass with a smirk. She took it from him with a small smile that turned his cheeks red. Alex was giving Olivier his long-winded congratulations while she tested the lengths of her renewed patience with him. Mustang lingered near Riza until the rest of their group had wandered off. Olivier watched them out of the corner of her eye, giving the two time to speak alone. Eventually, she could not hold back any longer.

Olivier came up to Riza and Mustang. She eyed Roy sideways. “Excuse me.” She looked to Riza. “Mrs. Armstrong, it is time for our dance.” Olivier half-bowed and extended her hand. Riza beamed at her.

Without even glancing in Roy’s direction, she took Olivier’s hand and excused herself. Olivier led Riza to the open area by the fountain. She turned and put one hand on Riza’s hip, holding the other out. Riza placed her hand in Olivier’s and rested the other against the back of her neck.

“When you’re ready.” Olivier waited.

Riza furrowed her brow. “I’m nervous.”

Olivier smiled gently at her. “We practiced and you did well, you’ll be fine. Just follow my lead.”

Riza nodded and squared her jaw. “Okay.”

Olivier waited a beat and signaled the musicians. She let them play a bar, to allow Riza time to calm and picked up on the next. It was a simple waltz, but Riza was not as confident in her steps as Olivier—who moved with a magnificent fluid grace.

Riza looked at Olivier and her nerves faded away. She fell into rhythm with Olivier’s body subtly guiding her.

The crowd watched the two spin round the open space, blatantly oblivious to the world around them.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Riza teased her fingers in Olivier’s hair.

Olivier smiled at her. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Riza. You look,” she let out a breath. “Stunning.”

If anyone had any question about how Riza could have fallen in love with someone as cold as the Ice Queen of Briggs, the quietly smoldering flames plainly visible behind those blue eyes reduced it to ashes.

The music stopped and Olivier immediately pulled Riza in for a kiss. There was no fanfare, no flourish—it wasn’t for the spectacle. She pressed her forehead to Riza’s. “I love you, Riza Armstrong.”

Riza let out a small, gleeful laugh. “I love you, too, Olivier.”

Winry was first to stand, pulling Ed out onto the dance floor. followed by Olivier’s parents. Havoc sidled up to Maria to ask for a dance. Quickly, the dance floor around them filled with their friends and family while they stood still, lost in each other.

* * *

The sun began to sink behind the manor, sending a long, dark shadow over the grounds. Olivier wanted nothing more than to kick everyone off the property, but she restrained herself. It didn’t take long after for their friends to leave on their own, until it was just the two of them and the wedding party, all of whom were staying at the house.

Olivier put it on Alex to see about cleaning up and lead Riza up grand steps to the doorway of what was now also her home. She scooped Riza up in proper bridal fashion and carried her over the threshold.

Riza expected to be put down shortly inside the foyer, but Olivier kept going. Riza hooked her arms around Olivier’s neck, staring with adoration. A subtle smirk slowly crept across Olivier’s lips.

Riza smiled and pressed close to Olivier’s ear. “What are you thinking about?”

Olivier caught a small hitch as Riza’s warm breath teased her skin. She cleared her throat. I am thinking about how I am going to carry you all the way up to the bedroom, carefully strip you out of that dress, and then make love to you until you beg me to stop, Mrs. Armstrong.”

Riza purred, her thighs tightening at the prospect. “That is going to take some getting used to: Mrs. Armstrong.”

“You’ll have plenty of practice. I plan on calling you Lieutenant Armstrong every available opportunity at Briggs.” Olivier stared at Riza, letting her muscle memory guide her through the halls and up the stairs to her bedroom.

Olivier pushed the door open with the toe of her boot and paused. Riza leaned in for a lingering kiss. Olivier stepped through the entryway and closed the door behind her with a kick. She carried Riza to the bed and laid her down, leaning over her.

Riza looked at her with dusky eyes. “My chivalrous noblewoman.”

Olivier buried her face in Riza’s neck, kissing and nipping gently. “Get out of that dress and I will show you just how much of a lady I am.” Olivier stood, her eyes on Riza in the most delectable way.

Riza laughed in her throat. She stood gracefully, her arms draping over Olivier’s shoulders. “Then undress me.”

Olivier smiled and pulled Riza in for a kiss. Like a gentle wave building into a torrent, she crashed against Riza. Riza’s stomach fluttered. Olivier ran her hands up Riza’s back to the top of her bodice and slowly pulled down the zipper. Her kiss burned like fire against Riza’s lips.

With the softest touch, Olivier ran her nails up Riza’s spine. Riza shuddered against her. Olivier hooked her fingers over the straps of the bodice and pulled it off, deliberately feathering her fingertips across Riza’s arms. She chuckled at the goosebumps that followed in her wake.

“You do touch me so well.” Riza said, breathlessly.

Olivier grazed the corner of her mouth across Riza’s ear and purred in the deepest, lowest voice, “I know.”

Riza swallowed a whimper.

Olivier put her hands on Riza’s waist, firmly holding her body. She slid her fingers down Riza’s hips, letting the dress and her underwear fall to the floor. Riza’s eyes closed as Olivier cupped the curve of her butt and tugged her bodily against her. She casually moved her hand between Riza’s thighs.

Riza pressed against her touch at first, but moved away with a gentle tug at Olivier’s hair. “Not yet.”

Olivier’s gaze was ravenous with desire. “Yes, Mrs. Armstrong.”

Riza smiled. She began to undo the golden buttons along the right side of Olivier’s chest, brushing her knuckles purposefully against her wife’s breast. Olivier watched her, her hands on Riza’s hips, her breath getting heavier the longer she looked at Riza.

Riza moved slowly, avoiding looking up into Olivier’s eyes lest she be taken up in the hurricane behind them. She undid the last button and slipped her hands inside. Running them against Olivier’s ribs, Riza pushed the fabric away. She moved her hands up over Olivier’s chest; her breath caught at Riza’s touch.

Riza hooked her hands into the shoulders of the uniform and pushed it down. Taking equal care, she divested Olivier of the shirt. She leaned in and kissed at Olivier’s throat while she loosened her belt enough to pull the undershirt free. Riza took a moment to press her hands against her wife’s stomach, thumbs tracing the muscles as they fluttered at her touch. She pulled the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor already forgotten.

Riza put a hand against Olivier’s breast, and wrapped the other around her back. She pecked her way up Olivier’s neck as she caressed and squeezed, teasing the nipple beneath a thin layer of silk with her thumb. Olivier tried to speak, but nothing came out. She swallowed and tried again. “I have to sit.”

Riza kissed up to her ear. “Then sit.”

Olivier fumbled with the buckle of the sword frog, laying it across the bench at the end of her bed. She sat next to it. Riza slipped out of her dress shoes and knelt in front of her. She took Olivier’s hand and brought it to her lips.

“Allow me.” Riza kissed the gold band around her finger. Olivier waited while Riza, as gracefully as she could, pulled her boots off. Riza stood and held a hand out for Olivier.

She pulled Riza close and kissed her stomach. Riza ran her fingers through Olivier’s hair. Reaching up, Olivier unhooked Riza’s bra, trailing her fingers as she pulled off the straps. Olivier looked up at her.

“You are so beautiful.”

Riza blushed as she smiled back. “You know, everyone thinks you’re the beautiful one.”

“They’re wrong.” Olivier said it with such conviction.

Riza stroked her cheek for a moment, staring down into Olivier’s doting eyes. She stepped back and pulled Olivier to her feet.

Olivier held her face and kissed her. “I love you so much, Riza.”

Riza smiled. “I love you too, Olivier.” She moved her fingers slowly, deliberately along Olivier’s waist to undo the belt. Riza undid the buttons of her fly one at a time, watching Olivier’s pupils dilate each time her knuckles dug in to pull a button free. Riza ran her hands slowly over the tight curve of Olivier’s cheeks, pushing her pants down around her thighs. She knelt, pulling Olivier’s pants down.

Riza pressed a lingering kiss against the fabric between Olivier’s legs. Olivier grabbed onto her shoulder. Riza tugged Olivier’s underwear off and repeated the kiss. Olivier’s grip tightened.

Riza kissed up the inside of one thigh and then the other. Olivier spread her legs, asking Riza not to stop. Riza ran her hands up the back of her wife’s thighs. Olivier’s stomach shuddered with her stuttering breath. Riza put her lips to Olivier, just grazing the tip of her tongue against her. Olivier gasped and braced against Riza’s shoulders with both hands.

Riza hummed a small laugh and fluttered her tongue across Olivier’s clit. Olivier moaned as Riza worked her tongue gently. Olivier cupped the back of Riza’s head, burying her fingers in her hair, knocking loose what flowers still remained.

“Riza.” Olivier tilted her hips into Riza’s mouth.

Riza clutched Olivier as she built her up with her tongue. The thick muscles in Olivier’s thighs tightened and her breath quickened. Riza changed her strokes to hasten her climax.

Olivier pressed Riza’s mouth harder against her. “Riza,” she breathed out. “Riza, please.”

She so loved when Olivier begged for her. Riza smiled and circled her wife’s clit with her tongue, soft and fast. Almost immediately, Olivier’s legs stiffened, her grip tightened in Riza’s hair. Her hips rocked subtly until she cried out Riza’s name.

Riza kissed the curve of Olivier’s hip and stood. Olivier looked at her through burning, lustful eyes. Riza grazed her lips against Olivier’s open mouth, teasing a kiss that didn’t come. She nudged Olivier’s face away with her jaw, moving close to her ear.

“Was your first time as my wife pleasing?”

Olivier grabbed her up and carried her to the bed. “Riza, you always are.”

Olivier slid up Riza’s body like a cat, playing kisses from Riza’s ankle, up her calf to her thigh. She kissed across her wife’s stomach to the dip between her breasts. Olivier touched her lips to the skin low on her stomach just below her hips. She took Riza’s hand and kissed the palm, tracing her lips up her arm and along her collarbone. Olivier placed lingering kisses up her neck, Riza arching into the touch, giving herself over to Olivier bodily.

Olivier’s body hummed with desire, deep and fiercely burning. She ran her hand up Riza’s thigh, over her hip, up her ribs. She circled her palm against Riza’s nipple, kissing at the corner of her jaw. Her breath danced against Riza’s ear. Riza grabbed at Olivier, drowning in her touch.

Olivier pressed her hand firmly against Riza’s breast, kneading. She nibbled gently at Riza’s throat, along her jawline, up to her ear.

Low and rumbling, Olivier whispered, “How do you want me?” She kissed Riza’s neck, teeth dangerously teasing her throbbing pulse.

Riza shuddered. “Just touch me, Olivier. Claim me. Make me yours.”

Olivier pushed herself up onto her elbow. She brought Riza’s hand to her lips, running her thumb over the platinum band on her finger. With a kiss, she whispered, “You already are.” There was a softness in Olivier’s eyes that Riza knew belonged only to her.

Riza pulled her hand down to kiss Olivier’s wedding ring. “And you’re mine.”

Olivier sunk down bodily into her, hovering her lips just above Riza’s. “I always was.” She kissed Riza slow and deep, pouring that consuming fire into her.

Olivier shifted her weight and slid her hand beneath Riza’s neck, tilting her head back just so. She traced her fingertips over Riza’s shoulder, along her collarbone and across her chest. Olivier played delicate patterns over Riza’s nipple. Slowly, she moved her hand down Riza’s ribs. Pressing her palm against Riza’s hip, Olivier gently pushed her thighs apart with her knee. Digging her grip into Riza, Olivier slowly worked her hips, grinding down into her.

Olivier kissed down Riza’s throat as she slid her fingers down between their bodies. She dipped a finger to test Riza’s wetness. Olivier purred against Riza’s delicate skin at the feeling of her intense arousal. She slid her fingers slowly inside Riza.

Riza cried out, wrapping her legs around Olivier’s thighs. Olivier worked her hips behind her hand, steady and gentle. She took her time, making tender, deliberate love to Riza. Putting every bit of her heart into the connection between their thighs and their passionate kisses.

Riza enveloped Olivier, holding her wife close. Olivier’s back muscles danced under her palms as she slid slowly in and out of her. Riza’s thighs pressed against Olivier’s, fighting between pleading to hold her close and wanting to spread as wide as she could for her.

Olivier built her up so gradually, taking her time to bring Riza to the edge.

Between intense kisses, Riza muttered, “Olivier, you feel so good.”

Olivier pushed up to see her wife’s face. “That’s how you make me feel, Riza. So good inside, so hungry.” She watched Riza’s eyes as she worked her hips, gliding in and out of her.

Riza moaned, her head lolling back. She held Olivier’s face and pulled her down to kiss her desperately

Olivier carefully slid another finger inside Riza.

Riza moaned into the kiss, gripping at her back. Olivier rode her gently, fingers gliding in and out, until Riza began to tighten around her. Olivier moved her fingers subtly inside Riza, to better hit the spot that always made her come.

“Yes.” Riza cried out as she teetered on the edge.

Olivier kissed at Riza’s throat, feeling the pressure building quickly around her fingers. “Come for me, Riza. Come for your wife.”

Riza dug her nails into Olivier’s back as her orgasm quaked through her entire body.

Olivier purred against Riza’s neck. “That’s my girl.”

Riza chuffed out, through the panting, “Your wife.” She smiled weakly.

Olivier grinned back. “Indeed, Mrs. Armstrong.” She pulled her fingers free from Riza. Riza’s eyes went wide and her hips jerked.

Olivier laughed softly as she laid down against Riza. “That is absolutely my favorite thing in this world.”

Riza’s breath began to return. “What? Me being your wife?”

Olivier kissed Riza’s shoulder. “Yes, that. But I was specifically referring to making you come.”

Riza laughed awkwardly. “I’m fond of it myself.” Riza settled into Olivier, pressing a soft kiss to her throat. “You are so good at it.”

Olivier kissed Riza’s forehead. “I just try to make you feel at least a fraction of how much I love you.”

Riza smiled, nuzzling against Olivier’s shoulder. “I feel it. And I love you just as much.”

Olivier made a small happy noise in her chest that Riza felt more than heard. The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up with them and Olivier yawned as Riza sank wearily into her.

“Get some sleep.” Olivier said.

“Is that an order?” Riza asked playfully, her voice already webbed with sleep.

“Yes, Lieutenant Armstrong.” Olivier teased.

Riza yawned. “Yes, sir, General Armstrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter scene titles  
> ~Olivier wishes she was an only child  
> ~Riza and Roy  
> ~Riza, you dumbass ;)  
> ~tiny Olivier (Alex Armstrong almost dies)  
> ~tattoo talk  
> ~wedding ceremony  
> ~reception (there's been a murder)  
> ~wedding night ;)
> 
> I made myself crack up while I was editing because I had the thought of Roy Mustang somewhere in the Armstrong mansion lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, knowing that at that exact moment Olivier was absolutely railing Riza.
> 
> This has been my favorite thing to write ever, so far. I loved and adored it. And this was my favorite chapter of it. There's so much character interaction. Even though Riza has tempered Olivier to a degree, she is still 100% Olivier Armstrong and I LOVE that.


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